The One Before They Become Mondler
by Oldreruns
Summary: Prelude to ongoing Mondler canon series. Monica & Chandler near-miss, almost was, could've been, bonding & becoming best friends, mostly a collection of one shots. Pre-series & S1-S5 fill in stories. Will remain ongoing. Chapters to come when inspiration strikes. Out of chronological order. Chapter titles will be song titles because I thought that would be fun. Heart/Humor.
1. I Missed Again

**I Missed Again**

It is 8pm on a Friday night, and as usual, Salvatore's Pizzeria is packed with patrons. There is always a lot of commotion at this time, as customers try to squeeze past each other to get their orders in and employees try to collect payment as they hand out food. Random combinations of pizza toppings are shouted out and the bell of the cash register constantly sounds off with each completed transaction. Even though it is Valentine's Day, in New York City on a Friday night, everyone wants to eat pizza.

Chandler Bing is pressed up against the counter as he waits for his order. He checks his watch, realizing that he is already a half-hour late. He briefly contemplates using the pay phone outside the restaurant, just to call ahead and let Monica know where he is. He knows how she can get when people are late and don't call; but he is afraid that if he gives up his spot at the counter now, he will never get back inside the store.

Monica was already in a terrible mood this morning. She was particularly upset about another Valentine's Day going by with no boyfriend. Chandler joined her in complaining, noting he also did not have a date and would be all alone tonight. That was when he had his brilliant idea. He suggested they have an "Anti-Valentine's Day". They would avoid being around happy, loving couples that would no doubt fill the city's bar scene. They could stay home, eat pizza, have a few beers, watch a movie and wallow in self-pity together. Monica approved of this plan almost immediately, sharing his nihilistic view of this particular holiday. Chandler offered to pick up their supplies and they agreed to meet at her apartment at 7:30pm. Monica's place made more sense since Kip was still moving in and had boxes all over Chandler's living room.

Under normal circumstances, if you told Chandler Bing that he was going to spend Valentine's Day with a beautiful woman, he would have laughed. He would say that there is no way an attractive, single woman would want to spend her Valentine's Day with him. He was Chandler Bing after all, the man with the world's worst luck when it came to women. Oddly enough, right now, if he were any other man and Monica were any other woman, he would realize that is exactly what he is planning on doing tonight.

Of course, he doesn't think of Monica as a beautiful woman. Sure, he finds her attractive, but this is Monica. His best friend's little sister. The chubby girl who would visit her brother at his school. His buddy across the hall who joins him for a beer at the bar while they shoot a game of pool. The neurotic, everything has to be perfect and clean, sometimes pain in the ass girl who was also his favorite neighbor. Most of all, Chandler doesn't think of Monica as a beautiful woman he is spending Valentine's Day with, because she is his friend, and he just doesn't think of her like that. It wouldn't feel right.

Yet, here he is; Valentine's Day, Friday night, picking up a pizza, a six pack of beer, a Blockbuster rental of "Silence of the Lambs", and meeting a beautiful woman at her apartment. If this were any other woman, Chandler would certainly consider this a date. It checks off all the boxes. If Monica was just some woman who lived in his building, he might be working out all the details of what could transpire tonight. They could share some comfort food, get drunk enough to lower their inhibitions, and just see what happens.

Maybe, if she were another woman, they would find themselves sitting on the couch towards the end of the night, huddled up closely in a darkened room, just the flickering of the TV lighting their faces. Monica might want to squeeze him close during the more intense scenes, and they would look at each other, feeling how well their bodies fit together, becoming intoxicated with each other's scent, succumbing to the romantic nature of the setting and start on a lifelong journey that leads to sex, love, commitment, and happiness.

But she isn't any other woman, and Chandler isn't any other man. If he allowed himself to think about what tonight could be if they were two totally different people, he would probably melt into a pool of guilt and embarrassment. No, this is Monica and Chandler. Two friends just lifting each other up and keeping each other company so that depression doesn't set in. Monica and Chandler do not have romantic feelings for each other. They make jokes, they playfully bicker, they share secrets with each other. They trust each other.

He waits for his pizza and his mind does not play through all of the possible outcomes when two lonely, attractive people, who enjoy each other's company and are incredibly comfortable around each other, get a little drunk and spend the night together. He doesn't think about how, maybe, if they were two different people at this point in time, that they may just end up happily ever after. He doesn't think these things because it's Monica. Ross' little sister. She isn't a beautiful woman, she is that bossy, know-it-all friend of his. When he thinks of Monica he thinks about borrowing milk or bread, sharing a cab, loaning money. He doesn't think about getting a little drunk and fooling around.

The man behind the counter finally calls Chandler's name and hands him the warm, cardboard box that contains his pizza. He pays and contorts himself out of the crowded restaurant lobby and into the street. He walks the two and a half blocks to his apartment building and breathes a sigh of relief that he is finally home.

As he makes his way up the stairs, a small smile absentmindedly spreads across his lips. A warm, welcoming feeling washes over him as he subconsciously realizes how happy he is to finally see his friend. He does not let himself outwardly experience how good it feels knowing that he will soon be with Monica. How her smile lightens the weight that he carries around with him. How she nudges him and touches him in just the right way to make him feel like he is home. How just being around her makes his life better. He buries all of that deep down into the depths of his soul, because this is Monica.

Even though Chandler does not allow himself to think about all the things that could happen tonight if he were another man, and Monica was another woman; he can't fight fate, all those things that he doesn't think about will happen. If he goes inside her apartment tonight, they will share a meal, and they will support each other emotionally like no one else could. Once he steps inside that door, he will be charming and sweet, like he can only be when he and Monica are alone. They will watch a movie and they will get a little drunk. After the movie ends, She won't want him to leave, she will hear noises coming from all over the apartment that causes her to jump. He will stay and they will allow their bodies to get close and the moment will overcome them and they will kiss. Then, they will make love, and they will discover everything that they can be once they are together. If he goes into her apartment right now, it will happen. Even if he doesn't know it yet.

Chandler works to balance the pizza, beer and the bag of VHS tapes, so he can reach one free hand down and open the door to Monica's apartment. After several seconds, and once he figures out how to do just that, the door swings open and Kip steps outside. He nods at Chandler and quickly closes the door behind him.

"Hey, Chan! You won't believe what happened to me tonight. Monica came over to our place like 25 minutes ago and we just started talking and had a few drinks. She is so hot man."

Chandler, still holding everything, opens his mouth as if to say something, but nothing comes out.

"Anyway, she started helping me unpack some boxes and we ran out of beer so we came over here. I was just going to get some take-out menus. She wants to hang out with me tonight. Man, I am glad you worked late. Who knows what would have happened if you were here."

Chandler looks at his new roommate, "Oh, I wasn't late, I was just picking up some..."

Kip cuts him off before he can finish his sentence. "Hey, you think I could take that pizza? I'll pay you for it. I figure the sooner we eat the sooner maybe, well, I think I have a shot here with her. She's being all flirty and stuff. You know how it is." He reaches out to take the pizza box from Chandler.

"What? Oh, yeah, sure. I, uh, yeah, you can have the pizza. You and Mon, huh? That's good." Chandler works on maneuvering the pizza box out of his hands and lets Kip take it.

"Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'm just hoping to get to second base or something right now. Hey, can I have that beer too?" Kip reaches out a free hand for the six pack and Chandler hands it over.

"You're hoping…what?" Chandler can't explain why, but the hairs on the back of his neck feel as if they are standing straight up.

"Yeah, she's really hot and I think with it being Valentine's Day. I mean, why not, right?" Kip gives Chandler a smile and a wink.

Chandler looks down at the VHS tape. "Do you want this too?"

Kip looks down for a moment. "Nah, I don't want to waste time watching a movie. Thanks for this pal. I'll pay you later." With that, Kip returns back to Monica's apartment and closes the door behind him.

Chandler stands in the hallway for a few minutes. _"Well, Kip is a good guy. I think. Anyway, Monica can handle herself around guys. This is probably better, at least one of us should have a date tonight." _ He has trouble shaking this feeling of disappointment, that he almost does not even know is there, out of his body. He shrugs his shoulders and looks down at the video tape in his hands. He nods, turns around, and walks into his apartment. Closing the door behind him.


	2. Chasing Cars

**Chasing Cars**

Chandler stopped keeping track of the time a little over an hour ago. It did not seem to be worth it anymore. Time might as well have stopped all together, or ran backwards for all he knew. It didn't matter. As far as he was concerned, this must be hell. Rachel had been talking, almost non-stop; peppering Ross' girlfriend Julie with questions about her life for hours. Chandler feels numb from boredom and exhaustion. It takes all of his concentration just to keep his eyes open as he holds onto one of Ross's couch cushions in his arms. Using the pressure from hugging it to keep him from falling asleep. He is so tired that he can barely hear the words coming out of Rachel's mouth. He looks across the room, dragging his sleepy eyes towards his friends. Joey, sitting on the floor, eyes staring blankly ahead at nothing, as if he were hypnotized. Monica was already fast asleep, with her legs draped across the arm of the chair. All three of them were wiped out. The adrenaline rush they had felt from seeing Joey's porno was long gone. Now, all they could do was wait for Rachel to stop talking and for this night to be over.

"Now, what exactly is in a cobb salad?"

Rachel's latest question snaps Chandler out of his stupor. He springs up from the couch and sleepily announces, "I'm going home." Joey, as if he was simply waiting for that signal, begins to stir and raises himself off of the floor as he shambles across the room. Chandler, close behind him, almost reaches the door to Ross' apartment but stops, turns around and looks for Monica, who is still asleep on the chair. He walks back to the living room and leans over to gently shake her awake. "C'mon. We're going home."

Monica's eyes open like slits. She can barely get out a groggy, "m'kay" as she reaches for Chandler to help her up from the chair. Leaning against him as they stagger out of the apartment and into the hallway. She holds onto his waist and places her hand against his back as he puts his arm around her shoulders to support her weight. Monica, feeling as if she will fall over, embraces him tightly and rests her head on his chest.

"That Julie's a talker, huh?" Joey offers up as they make their way to the elevator at the end of the hallway. They hear Ross say something, but all three of them are too tired to acknowledge him and keep moving until they enter the elevator and the door closes behind them.

Once they reach the street, Monica, now with both arms around Chandler's waist, shivers a bit from the cold night air. He removes his cardigan and wraps it around her shoulders, guiding her arms through the sleeves. "Cab?" is all he can manage to mumble out as he looks up towards Joey. Joey nods and steps into the gutter to flag one down.

As a cab pulls up to the curb, Joey looks around towards the entrance of Ross' building. "Oh man! Where's Rachel?"

"She must be coming. I guess we can wait." Chandler moves back from the cab and slumps up against a bollard on the sidewalk with Monica still wrapped up in his arms.

Monica groans with weak frustration. Her eyelids barely able to open, looking more like half-moons, leans heavily into him. "I want to go home. I need my bed." She then turns her face sleepily back into his chest and closes her eyes.

"Look, why don't you two take this cab and when Rachel gets down here, me and her will get the next one." Joey opens the back door to the waiting taxi and guides Chandler and Monica towards it. "You should get her to bed." Chandler nodded as the two of them climb in and huddle together in the back seat.

Monica, her eyes already closed again as she nuzzles into Chandler's chest, rubs her hand across his soft, white cotton T-shirt. Joey gives the cab driver their address, taps his hand on the roof of the car three times and turns around to walk back into the lobby of the building, hoping to find Rachel and get home himself.

During the brief ride Chandler rubs his eyes hard, trying to wake himself up. He looks down at Monica who was still resting on his chest. He reaches down and wraps his arms around her, attempting to support her head. Trying to keep her from jerking back-and-forth due to the sudden movements of the car as it darts along the busy Manhattan streets.

The cab pulls up to their building on Bedford Street with a sudden stop, bringing both of out of their slumberous haze. Chandler pays the fare with a wad of cash from his pocket and focuses his attention back on Monica. He helps her out of the car and leads them across the sidewalk until they enter the lobby of their apartment building.

Once inside, Monica opens her eyes and looks up at the stairs they need to climb in order to reach their shared floor. She sees the task as daunting but necessary if they are to make it into their respective apartments and ultimately, into their own beds. "I can't do these stairs now. Maybe we can just rest here for a few minutes." She looks up at Chandler, hoping he agrees to a reprieve.

Chandler looks up at the stairs, "But, I want my bed."

Monica takes another look and reaches her arms around his neck, interlocking her fingers. "How about a lift?"

"Are you asking me to carry you?" Chandler's shoulders slump from exhaustion. "You have got to be kidding me."

"Please? I'm so tired and I'm a tiny little woman. You wouldn't even know you were carrying me." She leans on him again, her eyes already closing.

Chandler protests weakly, "Mon, I'm so tired."

Monica begins to speak in a sing-song voice, "I'll cook you anything you want for dinner tomorrow. Even mac and cheese."

Chandler lets out a tired, annoyed sigh and then slumps back in defeat. "Okay, I'll do it. But I want it from a box. No fancy stuff. No three different kinds of cheese. I want my cheese to come in powder form from a white envelope."

Monica, looks up at him with disgust, sticks her tongue out and blows a raspberry, but eventually relents with surprisingly very little protest. She tightens her grip around his neck and starts to let her body go limp. Chandler hooks one arm under her legs and places the other on her back to support her weight as he lifts her up and begins the climb the stairs to their floor. Monica nuzzles her head into his neck and drifts back to sleep.

Chandler is stronger than he usually projects outwardly, and under normal circumstances, carrying Monica wouldn't tax him physically. Tonight though, he is exhausted, and climbing up the stairs while holding her in his arms feels like an impossible task. His muscles begin to feel the strain almost immediately and he has to take small breaks, leaning against the wall, every time he reaches one of the landings. The promise of his bed, waiting for him, is the only thing that keeps him moving.

Mercifully, he finally reaches their floor and steps over to Monica's door. He nudges her with his shoulder to wake her up. "Okay. We're here. Goodnight." He looks down at Monica who is sound asleep and sighs. He strains a bit and works a few fingers into the pocket of her pants, finally hooking one on her key ring. He pulls them out and struggles to slip the key into her door, but finally manages to unlock it.

Chandler moans, realizing he is going to have to carry Monica a little bit longer before he can go to bed. He enters the apartment, walks across the kitchen and living room, until he finally makes it into her bedroom. He gingerly lays her down on the bed and she kicks off her shoes, curling up into a ball and mumbles something that sounds like "good night."

Chandler sits down to catch his breath at the foot of her bed. "Okay. I just need a minute." Without warning, he immediately collapses backwards, and ends up lying across the length of her bed as he passes out with his feet still on the floor.

A few hours pass and Chandler's eyes open slightly as he tries to shift himself into a more comfortable position. Not realizing where he is at first, he starts to panic until he finally recognizes his surroundings and figures that he must have fallen asleep in Monica's room on her bed the moment they got home. He turns his head and looks over, seeing that she is fast asleep. He notices that she is now under the covers and looks to have changed her clothes at some point since she seems to be wearing her pajamas.

He moves his head side-to-side and realizes that he now has a blanket draped over him. His shoes are off and when he looks around the room, he finds them neatly lined up on the floor next to Monica's. Chandler quickly works out that she must have woken up for a few minutes, cleaned up, changed, and covered him up before she went back to sleep. He mumbles out a sleepy, "still getting my mac n cheese". For a brief moment he thinks about getting up from his position by her feet and making his way into his own bed, but still too tired to move, he simply closes his eyes and falls back into an inviting deep slumber.


	3. You Can't Get What You Want

**You Can't Get What You Want…**

Monica had fallen asleep on the couch last night and ended up staying there until morning. She spent the previous two days giving her new apartment (the boys old apartment) a total makeover, working herself into a state of exhaustion. By the end of the second night, she was finally done. The apartment was immaculate. It smelled amazing, and it no longer felt like this disgusting hole that she and Rachel were forced to live in. While she was nearly drained of what always seemed to be her limitless energy, she was determined to regain her hosting duties. She baked cookies, set up some cakes and milk, and invited everyone over. Satisfied that she won some competition that Joey and Chandler did not even know they were involved in, she fell asleep while everyone was snacking on her wares and talking about the events of the day.

She was still groggy when she woke up the next morning, having trouble bringing the world into focus after she had finally opened her eyes. She needed a few moments to recognize her surrounding since, despite her best efforts, she still had not gotten comfortable with her new living arrangements yet. She lifted her head and saw Rachel, dressed for work, and fidgeting around the kitchen counter in an attempt to make coffee. "No!" Monica sprang up from the couch and rushed over to the kitchen. "I'm up! I'll do it!"

Rachel, visibly shaken by Monica's outburst, stepped back from the coffee maker, with a confused look on her face. "What? Monica! What are you doing? I am perfectly capable of making coffee."

Monica stood between Rachel and the coffee maker and smiled at her. She looked down and balled up the sleeves of her sweater in her palms. "Look, Rach. It's just that, well, sweetie, you aren't any good at making coffee. And you always spill coffee grounds all over the place and I just got this apartment halfway livable."

Rachel huffed and sat down at the kitchen table. "Yeah, well." Her eyes lifted up to the ceiling as she tried to think of a suitable rebuttal. "Well, you're not very good at, uh, spelunking."

Monica rolled her eyes at her roommate while she continued preparing the pot of coffee. "Do you even know what spelunking is?"

Rachel ran her hand through her hair, pushing it behind her ear, and quietly offered a weak "No." She brushed off her failed attempt and remembered that Monica slept through last night, when Chandler came over after his break-up with Kathy. "You missed all the action last night after you passed out. Kathy was cheating on Chandler. Or, at least, maybe she started to cheat last night? I'm still a little fuzzy on exactly what happened."

Monica's mouth opened wide in shock and her eyes immediately displayed pity for her friend across the hall, "Oh, no! Poor Chandler, he must be devastated."

"I think so. He is blaming himself for everything. Poor guy. First Janice and now Kathy. I mean, she did cheat on Joey with him, so, maybe there's a pattern there." Rachel reached into her purse for a mirror, looking to do some last-minute touches to her hair before she left for work.

Monica finished setting up the coffee pot and made her way to the front door. "I think I am just going to go check on him real fast. I'll see you later Rach."

* * *

Monica entered her old apartment across the hall and looked around.

"Hello? Anybody home?"

She stopped at the foosball table that now occupied the kitchen and shook her head.

_"Look what they did to my kitchen. How are you supposed to eat on this!"_

She walked over to the cabinets and eyed the contents. She moved a few cans to the side until she finally found some coffee.

_"Who organized this? There's cereal, pasta, a can of peas and two open bags of coffee? They opened a second bag before finishing the first one? Who lives here? It's like a biker bar!"_

She smelled the coffee pot and twisted up her face in disgust.

_"Oh my god, they never clean this." _

She brought the pot over to the sink and washed it out. She then proceeded to clean the rest of the coffee maker. She looked at the contents of the cabinets again and decided to reorganize them quickly. While she was in the middle of moving all the soup into one spot she heard one of the bedroom doors open and turned around to see Chandler as he slowly shambled into the living room.

Upon first inspection, he looked like a rumpled mess. Mismatched sweat pants and shirt, hair tussled and sticking up in spots, his eyes bloodshot and red. He stared forward blankly and expressionless.

"Hey Mon. Do you need something or have you finally snapped and started to clean all the apartments in Manhattan?"

Monica put the can of soup down on the counter and gingerly approached Chandler. "Hey sweetie, I heard about last night. I'm so sorry." Her voice was soft and filled with concern.

Chandler did not want to admit it to himself, but it felt good to hear a tender voice after the events of last night. "You're sorry. I'm sorry. Everybody is sorry." He tilted his head and raised his eyebrows inquisitively. "Well, except for Kathy and Nick. They're probably having sex right now. What are you doing here?"

Monica reached out and ran her hand up and down Chandler's arm. "I wanted to check on you. Rachel just told me what happened and I just feel awful. Is there anything I can do?"

Chandler looked down and rubbed the back of his neck with one of his hands. "Don't feel awful. You didn't sleep with her. Look Mon, I appreciate you coming over, but I plan to sleep all day and not change my clothes or shower for at least a week. So you should probably take a hike because I am not going to be any fun to be around."

Monica started walking back to the kitchen. "How about some coffee? Everything feels better with a little caffeine. What do you say?"

Chandler rubbed his chin. "Yes, because that's what I want, to be awake and fully alert, with my own thoughts."

Monica turned back to face Chandler and leaned on the foosball table. "Honey, I know you must feel terrible, but you really should eat something at least. Let me put together some breakfast."

Chandler sat down in his Barcalounger and swiveled around to face Monica in the kitchen. "Look Mon, I appreciate what you're doing, but I really just want to be alone. I'm miserable, tired, angry, I'll probably say something mean about her, or women in general. I just won't be good company."

"That's okay. I don't expect you to be good company, Chandler." Monica turned back around to the kitchen counter and started to pull down some cartons of cereal. "How about at least some cereal?"

Chandler spun back around to face the opposite direction. "Mon, seriously, I just want to be alone."

Monica looked down at the counter and exhaled a sigh. "Okay. I get it." She walked towards the front door and opened it slightly, prepared to leave. Before she could step out of the apartment, her mind snagged on a memory from last year, and she felt a bit of reversed Déjà Vu. She was the one who was upset about a break-up and Chandler was the one who checked on her. She remembered that she had also told him she wanted to be alone, and he got as far as the door before he turned back around.

_"What did he say again?" _

Monica searched her memory for the exact words he spoke to her. She smiled and nodded as she gently pushed the door closed. Chandler turned around in his chair again to face her when he heard the latch bolt click.

"No." her voice sounded soft yet determined. "When your best friend is hurting and depressed and wants to be alone, that's the time when you need to make sure they aren't alone." She walked over to Chandler, set herself up on the arm of the chair and held his hand. She looked down at him and smiled sweetly. "What did you say after that? How did it go? Oh, yeah. We can talk about anything you want or we can just sit and not talk at all. We can drink coffee, get drunk, or you can just go to sleep in your room. But I will be here, making sure you aren't alone."

Chandler smiled up at her, amazed that his friend recalled some words he said a year ago that he would not have remembered without her speaking them aloud. It was slightly surreal for him to hear his words coming out of her mouth. Yet, he was also comforted to know how much she cared. It gave him a little spark. After what happened with Kathy last night, he started to entertain the idea that no one would ever care about him again.

"Mon, thanks. I appreciate it. Seriously."

Monica moved closer to him and pointed her finger into his chest. "I know how hard it is to give someone this part of you right here." She rested her palm over his heart. "You've really only done it twice since I've known you. And I'm sorry that they both hurt you. But please don't let that close you off to doing it again." A tear's mist began to form at the corner of Monica's eyes as she became riddled with empathy for her friend. She blinked rapidly to make sure that she didn't start to cry and instead offered him another warm smile.

Monica noticed that Chandler looked teary-eyed himself, but he seemed to be able to hold off actually crying. Unfortunately, in denying his sorrow an outlet, he quickly turned to rage instead.

"Its just, this isn't how it is supposed to work. You're supposed to like each other, you can talk about important things, you make each other laugh, and just be good to one another, I just don't know. Why doesn't it ever seem to work for me? Am I that screwed up?"

Monica wrapped her arm around Chandler's shoulders and gave him a squeeze. "I don't know sweetie. I could say something cliché, like maybe you just haven't given this part of you to the right woman yet or how you have to be patient, but to be honest, I just don't know. What I do know, is that when you do finally fall in love with the right woman, she will see how big this heart of yours is and she will love you for it. She will know about all these great things you keep inside of you. She will see how valuable what you are offering is and she won't ever let you go. Janice, Kathy, all those other girls, they just couldn't see it. And that means they're the screwed-up ones. Not you."

Chandler rested his head against Monica's thigh. "It doesn't seem like anyone can see it."

Monica gave him a quick kiss on the top of his head. "I see it, and if I can, then I know that the woman you are supposed to be with will see it too."

Chandler looked up at her and while he could not bring himself to smile, he expressed his gratitude with his eyes. "Thanks Mon, I think I am still pretty far away from feeling better, but I am glad you came over to talk to me. I'm lucky to have you. You don't mind keeping this between just us though, do you? I don't think any of the other guys would understand or be able to say what you did."

Monica gave him one last squeeze on his shoulders and stood back up. "Well, I'm going to make coffee. You can do whatever you want, sleep, watch TV, just brood in your chair; I'll be here. We will all be here for you. Okay?"

Chandler got up from his recliner. "Okay." Monica offered him one more sympathetic smile as he disappeared back into his room.


	4. Till You Know What You Want

…**Till You Know What You Want**

Monica has been sitting on the couch, alone in her darkened apartment, longer than she would care to admit. She had thought Rachel would be home by now, giving her someone to talk to about how depressed she is, but after a quick check on the time, and seeing how late it has gotten, Monica assumes Rachel must be staying overnight at Ross' place. She shifts restlessly and tries to convince herself that it is probably better that Rachel isn't here and that she actually does not want to talk to someone about what happened tonight at Richard's apartment. She would rather not dwell on how she is feeling about it. Unfortunately, her efforts are in vain, and she is overcome with this overwhelming urge to speak her thoughts aloud, hoping that in doing so, it will help get them out of her head forever.

She contemplates talking to herself. She can imagine having an entire conversation, a solitary debate with herself, where she argues for both sides. She quickly decides against that, even if she has already let a few stray sentences find a voice, because she is positive that sitting in a dark apartment, all alone, talking to yourself, is a sign that you are going crazy. And, Monica has resolved not to let what happened with Richard tonight make her crazy.

She is angry though, mostly at herself for slipping back into that emotional rabbit hole she had fallen down so hard into when they initially broke up at Barry and Mindy's wedding. The same hole she barely crawled out of only a few months ago. She remembers every moment of her depression over ending it with Richard. Knowing that while they still loved each other, they just did not want the same things, did not soften the blow. It was the hardest thing she had ever done; walking away from someone she loved. She knew back then that she was doing the right thing for herself, but it took a great toll.

She had finally started to feel normal again. She went months without thinking about him, until she saw Richard that night at the video store. There he was; still charming, still handsome, still so very tall. She could not help herself and got swept up in all those familiar feelings and how easy it was to fall back into some type of relationship with him. At the start, the idea of being "friends with benefits" seemed to make so much sense; despite all the raised, doubting eyebrows of her friends. Unfortunately, they were proven right, and she was so very wrong.

Now, here she is, sitting alone, feeling depressed and that familiar ache in her heart from all those months ago has returned. At first, she shed a few tears, almost mourning the loss of him again, but then the rage settled in. She silently admonished herself only a short time ago.

_"How could I let this happen again! How could he let this happen! He is the grown up here! He should know better!" _

Monica is aware that Richard actually doesn't know any better. Despite being twenty-one years her senior, she is clearly the more experienced one when it comes to dating and relationships. He married his high school sweetheart and then didn't love another woman until he met Monica. He is practically brand new to what dating in the nineties is all about. She knows this, and that is probably why most of her ire is pointed at herself. She is the one who got caught slipping back into old habits with him. She is the one who started to invest herself emotionally into their casual relationship. She is the one who let herself believe it would be different this time. The only thing she is giving herself credit for is not fighting back too hard when Richard decided to become the rational one and made sure she understood that they still want different things. That no matter how easily they seemed to fit together, it was not going to end with marriage and children.

The door opens, startling Monica as she spins around in her seat to see who came in. Chandler bounces into the kitchen, still dressed in his work clothes; tan suit, shiny blue shirt, and a pink tie. He walks towards the refrigerator unconsciously, as he would usually do on any other night. She grits her teeth at the garish clash of colors he was wearing.

_"Ugh! That shirt. Who dresses this man?"_

He looks around, confused by how dark it is, and sees Monica on the couch. He offers her a smile, but senses something is off. He turns to retrieve a glass from the kitchen cabinet.

"Hey, where is everyone?"

Monica turns around to face him. "It's just me."

Chandler fills his glass from the tap and takes a few swigs. "Why is it so dark in here?"

Monica stands up from the couch and Chandler can see her eyes look puffy and red, as if she were crying. "It matches my mood. Richard and I decided to end," she pauses, looking for the right term to use to describe what the last week of her life with Richard was like. "whatever it was we were doing. We couldn't just be friends."

"Oh, yeah. That makes sense. That stuff doesn't always work out." Chandler looks down at his feet for a moment. "Mon, for what it is worth, I'm sorry."

Monica folds her arms, looking irritated. "Chandler, I don't really need to hear any I told you so's. I feel like I am right back to where I was after we broke up. I just" she hesitates and takes a deep breath, calming her voice. "I would really like to be alone."

Chandler puts the now empty glass into the sink. "Of course, I understand. I really am sorry Monica."

Chandler walks over to the front door of the apartment and opens it slightly. He pauses and looks up at the ceiling. He sighs heavily, bites his lip and shakes his head as he slowly shuts the door.

"No. I'm sorry Monica, but when your best friend is hurting and depressed and wants to be alone, that's the time when you need to make sure they aren't alone." He walks over to the back of the couch, facing Monica who is looking back at him from the other side. "We can talk about anything you want, or we can just sit and not talk at all. We can drink coffee, we can go get drunk, hell, you can just go take a nap in your bed if you want. But I will be here, making sure you aren't alone."

Monica grabs his hand and gives it a squeeze. "Thank you."

Tears begin to form around Monica's eyes, as if Chandler's words gave her permission to feel sad about everything again for a little while, something she wasn't allowing herself to do until just now. Chandler looks down at their hands entwined together, walks around the couch and gives her a deep, reassuring hug. They hold each other for a few moments in the darkened living room. Her tears staining his shirt. Chandler pulls back and looks down to make eye contact.

"Look, for what it is worth, I think what you did the last time with Richard, when you were together, was very brave. I think knowing what you want and not giving that up is the strongest, bravest thing I've ever seen anyone do. I know I would never be able to do that."

Monica wipes her cheeks and sits down on the couch. "Well, why can't I find someone who wants what I want? Why can't I find someone who wants to build a life together? Someone who loves me and wants all the same things. Why is it so hard for me?"

Chandler sits down next to her. "Mon, I wish I knew. I'll tell you what I do know: I know someday, you will find a man who will want all those things you want. Even if he doesn't think about his future right now or if he's scared, or just really stupid; once he sees what a wonderful, amazing person you are and he realizes how lucky he is, he will want all of those things. He will want them because he will want them with you. You will get everything you want. I just know it. You're too stubborn and determined not to."

Monica chuckles and then sniffles a bit. She reaches her hand out for her friend and he takes it. "Promise?" is all she can squeak out.

Chandler puts his arms around her shoulder and lets her slump into his chest. "I promise."

Monica gives him a gentle squeeze as a few more tears fall onto his shirt. She exhales deeply, as if the anger and sadness chose that moment to escape from her body. She leans into Chandler as they sit together on the couch and she finally find the peace she needs to close her eyes. Her breathing begins to even out and she slips into a much-needed slumber.

Chandler looks down at her, his eyes filled with empathy for his friend. He then looks over at the coffee table to see the TV remote just out of reach.

"Dammit."


	5. Black Coffee in Bed

**Black Coffee In Bed**

**Spring 1991**

Monica reluctantly starts to wake up when she feels the bed shift under her visitor's weight as they sit down on the edge of the mattress. The damage from a night of drinking clanging around her head, still telling her she that she is not ready to open her eyes. She knows that will only magnify the effects of her hangover. Yet, she can smell the inviting, almost therapeutic aroma of the fresh brewed coffee that they have brought into her bedroom with them. She cannot help herself, it is enticing her to sit up, peel open her eyelids like Band-Aids and slowly sip at the caffeinated elixir presented to her. Weighing her options, she tries to compromise, and slowly opens one eye. Through sharp pain and blurry vision, she makes out the figure sitting on the edge of her bed, Chandler, who was extending a fresh cup of black coffee towards her while sipping at his own mug. She is a little resentful of how he is already smartly dressed in a shirt and tie, ready for work, seemingly none the worse for wear from last night's session of binge drinking.

Monica eases herself up to a seated position and pulls the covers to her chest. "Did you get the license plate number for that truck?" She rubs her face with one hand trying to massage out the disorientation in her brain. She takes the coffee mug that is being offered and yawns before having her first sip.

"Well, if you mean that truck from the distillery you latched on to last night and drained of all its contents? Then, no, I did not." Chandler gulps down his own coffee smugly.

Monica rubs at her eyes again as she leans over to place her mug on the end table, slipping a coaster underneath it. "What happened?"

Chandler chuckles. "I thought that would be obvious. You got rip roaring drunk. What do you remember?"

Monica bites her lower lip and tries to clear away the cobwebs from her mind as she pieces together her last few memories. "There was that cute guy I was talking to, what was his name. Did I go home with him?"

"Nope, he ended up kissing some other girl before the end of the night and you got really mad and started drinking anything you could get your hands on." Chandler sips from his mug again and pushes his hand through his hair. "The only person you ended up going home with was me."

Monica scoffs. "Great. Just what I always wanted. To end up with you."

Chandler ignores her jab. "So, you thought that guy was cute? He kind of looked like if Willem Dafoe had a baby with Danny DeVito. Maybe you don't have great taste in men."

Monica gives Chandler a look of mock indignation. "Well, maybe you're right. I used to think you were cute too."

Chandler straightens up, smirks and lifts up his chin. "Really? So, I'm cute?"

Monica reaches for her cup and takes another sip, "Used to be cute. When I first met you. Then you opened your mouth and started being you."

Chandler laughs, "That sounds about right."

Monica suddenly looks around, with an almost bashful expression. "Hey, where are my clothes? If I came home with you why am I not wearing my clothes from last night." She shoots him an angry, suspicious look.

Chandler, ignoring her non-verbal accusation, let's a wry smile escape his lips. "Are you naked under there? Let me see?"

Monica rolls her eyes. "Stop it. You don't want to see me naked."

Chandler laughs heartedly. "Monica, you have to understand something about men, once we see one woman naked, we pretty much want to see all the rest of them naked too."

Monica purses her lips and shakes her head at him. "So, what happened, where are my clothes?"

"I don't know. When I left you here you were fully clothed. You must have woken up and gone all Monica about wearing your smelly bar clothes in bed and took them off." Chandler makes an X over his chest with his fingers. "Cross my heart, I did not undress you."

Monica nods, appearing satisfied with that answer, and yawns again. "Okay. Well, thanks for the coffee. Now get out so I can get dressed."

"Okay, I left you a bagel in the kitchen. I'll see you later tonight Geller." Chandler gets up from his seated position and walks towards the door of Monica's bedroom.

"Thanks for checking in on me." Monica offers sincerely. "Thanks for making sure I got home okay."

Chandler turns, smiles at her, nods, and leaves.

* * *

**Fall 1991**

Chandler is woken up abruptly from a satisfying and deep slumber to an obnoxiously loud, bellowing, "Rise and shine Bing!" His bedroom door swings open recklessly as Monica appears in the frame. A steaming cup of coffee in her hand.

Chandler, visibly annoyed, looks over at his alarm clock. "What could you possibly be doing here at 6am on a Monday."

Monica gleefully glides over to his side of the bed and sits down on the edge of the mattress. "C'mon! You said you had that big meeting today at work about turning your temp job into a permanent position! This is a big deal! You don't want to go in late, looking tired and disheveled. You have to get up bright and early if you want to get that worm, buddy!"

Monica's enthusiasm causes Chandler to bristle. "How is being up three hours before I have to be at the office help? When you had me up until 1am watching movies last night?" Chandler rolls over and pulls his blanket over his head.

Monica starts to sing in an off-key, up-beat tone. "Come on Chandler don't be a jerk, time to get up and get ready for work! If you want that promotion so much, you can't be a lazy such-and-such!" She smiles proudly and extends a cup of coffee to him. Chandler continues to lay in bed silently, unmoving, and hiding underneath his blanket. "C'mon Chandler. Don't you want to seize the day! I've already ironed your shirt and tie and picked out a suit for you."

"Go away." He grumbles from underneath the comforter.

Monica, unrelentingly cheerful, keeps at it. "Chandler, don't be such a sourpuss. This could be the first day of the rest of your life!"

Chandler, realizing she will never give up, reluctantly rolls over, pulls the blanket down and starts to sit up. "Okay, if I wake up, will you please stop talking like some sappy motivational poster? Before you start saying things like 'hang in there baby'!"

Monica's cheek flush with slight embarrassment and she slowly nods her head. "Aren't you excited though? You're going to find out if this is your real job or not. I know I'd be excited."

Chandler reaches over for the cup of coffee she brought in and gulps some down. "It's putting numbers into a spread sheet. No one in the history of mankind has ever been excited to do that."

"Oh, life is what you make of it. You're only as good as..." Monica cuts herself off as Chandler shoots her a disapproving look. "…I mean, I have some eggs and bacon at my place, ready to eat. Can't beat a hot breakfast before a big day! I'll see you over there in five minutes!"

Monica leaps off the side of the bed and bounces out of the room, leaving a grousing Chandler in her wake. He sits up and cranes his neck so he can shouts behind her before she leaves. "That spare key was supposed to be for emergencies only you know!"

* * *

**Spring 1992**

Chandler rolls over in bed, convinced he is imagining things as it sounds like someone is moving around in his kitchen opening and closing drawers and cabinet doors loudly. It isn't until the unmistakable aroma of fresh coffee wafts through his bedroom door that he begins to realize what is happening. He looks over at his clock which is flashing 6:45am. "No, no, no! It is a Saturday. What is that woman doing!"

Before he can get up to confront his familiar intruder, Monica swings into his bedroom with a cup of coffee in hand. "Rise and shine Bing!"

"This is the worst case of Déjà vu anyone has ever had." He pulls his pillow over his head and rolls over, turning his back to her. "Leave the coffee. Get out."

"No can-do Bing. We've got roommate interviews today. We have to get this place clean if you want to find a replacement for Kip!" Monica, smiling, places the mug on a coaster she brought in with her, and rests the cup of coffee on Chandler's end table.

"What do you mean 'we'? This is my apartment." He starts to flail one arm from under the blanket. "Go away"

Monica smacks his hand away and giggles. "Like this has ever been just you're apartment. Anyway, they may be your roommate, but they will also be my neighbor. So no more duds, dude. Now, first-things-first: how many people do you have coming today?"

"I don't know."

"What time is the first person coming?"

"I don't know."

"Are any of them cute?"

Chandler finally lifts his head up from under the pillow. "Oh no. We are not doing that again. My roommates are now officially off limits. As a matter of fact, no one in this apartment can ever date anyone in your apartment ever again. This is now a no-go zone."

Monica lets out a disapproving huff and waves her hand dismissively at him. "You're no fun."

Chandler sits up, grabs the mug of coffee from the end table and takes a sip. "I mean it Geller. We can't go through another Kip situation. If you want to sleep with someone who lives on this floor you stick to your own roommates. I give you my permission to date Phoebe."

Monica folds her arms and offers up a mock laughter. "Har-dee-har-har."

"Monica, as a friend I have to let you know, no one likes it when you do that." Chandler puts the coffee back down on his end table.

Monica lifts the mug up and pushes the coaster back underneath it. "Well, no one likes when you give your own jokes a rim shot either." She then mimes playing the drums. "Buh-duh-dum psshh. Now drink up and get out of bed so we can get this apartment ready!"

* * *

**Spring 1993**

Chandler finishes adjusting his tie and fishes out a key from the bowl on the kitchen counter. As he starts to slip on his jacket, he hears Joey's bedroom door open. "Hey, What's up? Where are you going?"

Chandler opens the front door of the apartment. "Monica's. I'm going to make some coffee."

"Why aren't you making coffee over here?"

"I don't know." Chandler stops, and for a moment, confusion washes across his face. He realizes he never had to explain why he would be going to Monica's apartment first thing in the morning. "It's just something we do. We make coffee for each other in the morning. Sometimes breakfast."

Joey gives a knowing nod and smiles. "Ohhh, coffee. I see. You guys are doing it."

Chandler becomes defensive, and starts to stutter his words. "Wha-What? N-n-n-no we aren't. We're just friends. She's my best friend's sister. You have sisters, you know that's against the rules. No relatives or exes. In my case, also, no matter how much they hit on you, no mothers or fathers too."

Joey, once again gives Chandler a knowing nod and smiles. "Well, how come I never knew this? Why haven't I ever been invited over for breakfast?"

Chandler's eyes widen in disbelief at his roommate's obtuse nature. "Well Joe, you normally don't get up before noon."

Joey, for the third time, gives Chandler the same, knowing nod and smiles. "Well, I'm up now. I want breakfast. Can I come?" Chandler, thinks for a moment and then shrugs his shoulders. "Sure, I don't see why not." Joey smiles excitedly and starts to walk towards the front door. As he reaches the kitchen, he grabs a box of cereal from on top of the refrigerator and exits the apartment with Chandler.

Once Chandler unlocks the door to Monica's apartment, he immediately enters the kitchen and starts to measure out coffee so he can brew a fresh pot. Joey, opens the fridge, takes out milk and juice and places them on the table. Chandler hands him a bowl from the cabinet and a spoon from the cutlery drawer. The coffee maker beeps a few times, signaling it has finished and Chandler pours some into a mug and walks it over to Monica's bedroom.

Joey looks up from his Frosted Flakes. "Where you going?"

Chandler, not breaking stride, "I'm bringing Monica some coffee."

Joey, looking perplexed, puts his spoon down. "Are you sure coffee doesn't mean sex?"

Chandler sighs. "Yes." He again starts to try and explain why he and Monica had fallen into a pattern of bringing coffee into each other's bedroom. "I guess I just kind of fell into a routine, the mornings after she works late, I've just kind of brought coffee to her room."

Joey starts to eat his breakfast again. "What if she has a guy in there."

Chandler stops in his tracks just outside the door. "You think there's a guy in there?"

Joey, not once breaking eye contact with the cartoon tiger on the box of cereal in front of him, shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. She's hot. She was out late. Could be."

Chandler rolls his eyes. "Oh great. I never thought of that before. I don't want to walk in on her if there's a guy in there. That would be awkward and I'm awkward enough already."

"I don't have a guy in here." Monica shouts from inside her bedroom. "What are you guys doing out there?"

Joey, seemingly fully engrossed in his food, shouts across the apartment. "We're having breakfast. And coffee. And juice."

"All right. I'll be right out. Is it my juice or did you bring your own?" Monica's voice sounding like it is dripping with condemnation for the two men. Chandler stands there between the living room and her bedroom door, frozen and unsure of what to do next. Monica steps through the door, dressed in her pajamas and a robe. "Morning fellas, thanks for the coffee." She snatches the mug from Chandler and makes her way to the kitchen. "Joey! Look at you up in the morning. This must be a new experience for you."

Joey, looks off wistfully into the distance. "It has been a while."

Chandler makes his way back to the kitchen as Monica instinctively prepares two more cups of coffee and places them down on the table in front of her two visiting neighbors. The three of them sit down, sipping coffee and munch on cereal.

* * *

**Summer 1993**

Monica sneaks quietly into Chandler's bedroom, the sunlight creeping in the window creates shadows on the walls. "Hey, are you up? I brought some coffee."

Chandler, who was awake for most of the night, looks over in her direction. "Yes, I'm up. What are you doing here?"

Monica gingerly approaches the bed and places the mug of coffee down on a coaster on the end table. "I just wanted to check in on you. You seemed pretty upset last night."

"Well, historically, I don't have great luck with women, but now with Joey around, let's just say, it is slim pickings after he is done." Chandler sits up and props a pillow behind his back.

Monica gives him a sympathetic look. "I know, you looked really bummed at the party."

Chandler reaches over and lifts the mug of coffee up to his lips, blowing on it to try and cool the liquid before he sips at it. "Well, what about you? Any numbers?"

"No, I don't know. I didn't really get a good vibe from those struggling actor friends of his." Monica looks off to the side and then her eyes narrow as she sees scans some open envelopes on Chandler's end table. She leans forward and sees her grandmother's name and address on several of them. "Hey, why is my mail in your room?" She lifts up the small pile and begins to flip through each opened letter. "These look like bills."

"Huh, oh, no idea. I guess it got put in my box by mistake." Chandler sips his coffee and tries to look nonchalant.

Monica, still inspecting the contents of the letters she found, lifts one up and points it at him. "Did you pay my electric bill?"

"What? No, Maybe. I guess I thought it was mine and just paid it by accident."

"You thought your name was Althea?"

"Who's Althea?"

"That's my Nana, everything is still in her name."

Chandler looks down, glumly. "Oh."

Monica takes a deep breath and then uses a soft yet demanding tone. "Chandler. Have you been paying my electric bill for..." she tries to take a quick count of the bills in her hands."...months? There's like six open envelopes here."

Chandler looks up at her sheepishly. "Okay. Don't get mad. But when you got upset about Phoebe moving out and started to complain about money, I just wanted to help out. So, I've been taking your electric bill whenever I see it on your kitchen table and paying it. You know, to help out. I'm sorry."

Monica puts her hand on his leg and rubs it reassuringly as she smiles. "Chandler. That is so sweet. I really appreciate it, but I don't need charity."

"Monica. It isn't charity. You've been feeding me and Joey for almost a year now. We probably owe you more than this anyway."

Monica stands up from the bed. "Look, bring over some juice or milk once in a while. But you don't have to pay my bills. The entire reason I am here, living in the city, is to prove I can make it on my own. And as sweet as the gesture is, by paying my bills you kind of undermine that. You kind of undermine me."

Chandler reluctantly nods in agreement. "Okay. I'm sorry. I didn't realize that."

"Don't apologize, really, it's such a nice thing that you did, but I really have to sink or swim on my own." She smiles at him as they look into each other's eyes for a few extended moments.

Chandler starts to feel tension as a result of the prolonged tender gaze that they share. He looks away and starts to shift uncomfortably in his bed. "Aren't you paying like a ridiculously low rent because of rent control?"

Monica tilts her head. "That's besides the point."

Chandler becomes more animated. "And didn't your dad loan you $2500 when you first moved out here?"

Monica folds her arms defiantly. "What are you trying to say Bing."

Chandler, shrinking a bit in his bed, starts to stammer as he tries to avoid her gaze. "Oh, ah, nothing, never mind."

* * *

**Fall 1994**

Chandler reaches into one of the cabinets in Monica's kitchen and pulls out four coffee mugs while the pot finishes brewing fresh coffee. He hums to himself as he grabs the milk out of the refrigerator. He hears the water in the shower turn off and smiles, figuring Monica is about to come out, ready for her morning cup of coffee.

"What are you doing here?" Demands Rachel as she makes her way from the bathroom to the kitchen.

Chandler's eyes go wide and he stutters, embarrassed that this is the second time in a week that he has startled a half-naked Rachel. "I-I-I, uh, I forgot. I'm sorry! I just, ah, just sort of fell into a routine. Bad habits. Are you going to close that robe at all because I can't concentrate with all the cleavage."

Rachel looks down and tightens the robe up, holding it closed with both hands. "Why are you in my kitchen again!"

Chandler, surprised how quickly she is taking ownership of the apartment, starts to stutter over his words. "I'm making coffee. See?" He points at the machine that is already filled. "See? Coffee. Yes. Coffee. I'm just making coffee. I was not here to see your breast area again, as nice as it is. Monica and I, sometimes make coffee for each other."

Rachel suddenly smiles and gives Chandler an understanding nod. "Oh, right. Coffee. That's why you're always here so early." She winks at Chandler and starts to walk towards her bedroom.

Chandler throws his hands up in frustration. "Why does everyone think coffee means sex! Sometimes coffee just means coffee! Friends make each other coffee all the time!"

Rachel turns around and puts her hands up, signaling for Chandler to stop. "Okay. Fine. It's just coffee. Forget I said anything. Is this what it is like over here? Everyone just coming and going as they please? Making coffee."

Chandler nods his head and returns to the kitchen. "Yeah. Pretty much. You might want to invest in a bigger robe."


	6. London Calling

**London Calling**

Whenever Chandler walked into Monica's apartment, which used to be his apartment, he could not help but look around and take in just how much it has changed since she and Rachel moved in. It no longer resembled the place that he used to live in. The place that used to have sparsely decorated walls, mismatched furniture, a foosball table, a sticky floor, a smelly carpet and dirty counters. That was the apartment he knew. That was the apartment that he and Joey lived in. Not this new place that looked as if it jumped off the pages of a Pottery Barn catalog.

As he scanned the apartment, his focus shifted back-and-forth between everything that was new. There was a red and gold napery draped over the kitchen counter. She had an actual table that you could eat off of, with a centerpiece of assorted apples. Each kitchen chair has a clean and comfortable cushion. The coffee mugs were hung beneath the cabinets on hooks, something Chandler didn't know was possible. Decorative ceramics hung on the walls. Ornate, delicate picture frames decorated the end tables. Flowers and potted plants were scattered about the living room. Curtains that actually matched hung from the windows. Porcelain boxes that had no discernable purpose scattered about. Framed artwork hung on almost every wall. And finally, there was the smell; sweet, warm, inviting. As if someone were baking and arranging flowers at the same time. It was no longer an apartment in which men had lived, it was now only recognizable as Monica's.

He looked around to see if he could find her. "Hey, Mon. I need another porn break. What are you doing?"

Monica, upon hearing Chandler enter, briskly exited the bathroom, wearing yellow latex gloves and a basket of cleaning supplies in her hands. If there was one room in this formally disgusting apartment that she cleaned the most frequently, it was the bathroom. As far as she was concerned, that bathroom would never be clean. Her first concern with the room was that they had a duck and a rooster living in there, spreading whatever repulsive filth they could. Just the thought of showering in there sent shivers up Monica's spine. Her other problem with the bathroom, boys used it, and in her experience, boys were kind of gross.

She made sure to throw out everything that she could easily replace on the first night she had moved in. Toilet seat cover, shower curtains, towel racks, soap dishes, and even the showerhead all went straight into the trash. Yet, even with all the new equipment she purchased to spruce up the bathroom, it was never enough. Anytime she had a few minutes to spare, she would find herself grabbing her supplies so she could clean the bathroom. Taking turns either scrubbing down the bathtub, wiping down the toilet, or, if she really had some extra time, she would work an old toothbrush in the grout.

She was in the middle of another tub cleaning when she heard the door. At first, when she heard Chandler's voice, she thought, _"here is my nemesis"_. He was the one who had forced her out of her beautiful home and into this slum. If he weren't one of her closest friends, and if she hadn't lost her apartment in such a humiliating way, with witnesses, she would probably hit him with her basket right now.

Instead, she just shakes her head. "Why don't you guys just turn that off?"

"Monica, we've been through this. We can't turn it off. It might never come back." Chandler made his way into the living room and sat down in the big chair. "Maybe we can watch a regular, normal movie over here. Joey just started 'I Know Who You Did Last Summer' and I don't think I can take another minute of a porn parody."

Despite herself, Monica laughed. "Sure. I was just going to take a break anyway." She walked into the kitchen and made her way over to the refrigerator to get herself a can of soda. "Do you want a Sprite or something?"

"Sure. So, I guess Ross really went to England to find Emily, huh?"

Monica closed the refrigerator door, then turned her back to it and leaned up against it. A radiant expression washed over her face as she looked at the ceiling and smiled. Visions of storybook romance playing in her mind. "I know! Isn't it romantic! He is going to show up and she will tell him she loves him and they'll kiss!" Monica shimmied as she spoke and could hardly contain her giddiness.

"Or, she won't say anything, and he will be heartbroken and out the cost of a round trip plane ticket."

"You're such a cynic." Monica huffed and started to walk back into the living room. She put the soda down and tapped Chandler on the leg. "Scooch."

"Scooch?"

"Yes, move over. You took the seat with the best view of the TV. Plus, I'm feeling really sentimental about all of this and I think I need to cuddle." Chandler shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes as he obliged and slid over so Monica could sit down next to him. She squeezed herself against him in the chair.

Chandler put his arm around her. "I'm just trying to be realistic. But maybe you're right. I know whenever I tell a woman I love her it goes over really well." His voice dripped with sarcasm.

"That's just because you haven't found the right woman." Monica snuggled herself up against him. "C'mon Chandler. Can't you see it. He is traveling across the ocean to declare his love! In a foreign country! It's like a fairy tale!"

Chandler shrugged his shoulders. "Just because two people find themselves in another country doesn't mean they're going to fall in love. They're still the same two people who were here in this country. You know that, right?"

Monica made a half-hearted scowl at him. "Not if it's a romantic foreign country!"

"Monica, it's London. What great love story ever started in London? I thought all it did was rain there anyway."

Monica rolled her eyes. "You have no imagination Bing. If it's raining, then they have to stay inside and keep warm and dry. That's where the romance really starts!"

"Maybe you've been watching too much porn. You're basically talking about your brother having sex."

She hit him on the arm. "Ugh. You're hopeless." Monica laid her head into his chest. "Can't you see it? He shows up at her door and they declare their love for each other right then and there on the street and they share a kiss for the ages, not caring who sees them, lost in each other's eyes and celebrating the love they share and…"

Chandler cut her off abruptly. "How many Hugh Grant movies have you seen recently?"

Monica looked down and started to pick at her fingernails. "I don't know, three or four."

"There it is. See, you have this unrealistic image of love in your head because of movies. In the real world, when you tell a girl you love her and she doesn't say it back, it's because she doesn't love you. I really think you set Ross up to have his heart broken."

"Stop taking away my matchmaking triumph." She hit him on the chest playfully.

Chandler winced. "I don't know if I like this conversation if all you are going to do is hit me every time I say something."

Monica rolled her eyes. "Chandler, you need to have a little faith. Love always finds a way."

Chandler grumbled a little as they heard the door open and turned to see Joey walk in. "Hey guys, whatcha doing?"

"I asked Monica if she wanted to watch a movie."

Joey went in the fridge and took out a can of soda, He opened it as he walked into the living room and sat down on the other side of the coffee table so he could face Chandler and Monica. "Can I watch too?"

Monica looked up at the ceiling incredulously. "You guys can't keep coming over here to watch TV because you don't want to turn off the porn." She shook her head and huffed out loudly. She then turned her gaze to Joey. "I want you to settle an argument Chandler and I are having. Don't you think being in a foreign country inspires romance."

Joey took a sip of his soda and looked off to the side, contemplating her question. "I don't know about that, but I bet it makes the sex really good. I mean, think about it. The time zone delay."

Chandler and Monica looked at each other, perplexed by his statement. Chandler turned and nodded at Monica. "I'll ask." He then looked across at his roommate. "Joey, what is a time zone delay?"

"Okay, well, you know how when it is midnight here, it is like, morning there?" Joey's eyes widened with excitement.

Both Monica and Chandler nodded at the same time.

"Okay, well that means that you have sex at midnight America time, and then, you wait around a few hours, and it's midnight in London and you get to have sex again. Twice in one day. Everyone knows, when you're in another country you get to do it more than once because of the time zone delay."

Monica shook her head. "Joey, that's not how it works."

Joey looked off to the side, trying to figure out where he went wrong, and started to count off on his fingers.

"See." Chandler gestured at Joey and interrupted his introspective state. "Now Joe, I think, Monica sent Ross on a wild goose-chase."

"Oh, yeah, definitely. He already tried. Now he's just going to sit there, waiting for her, when she has some other guy."

"Joey, I think you and Chandler are really missing the point. It just feels right to me. I don't know why. I just have this overwhelming feeling that something special is going to happen in London. Sparks are going to fly and true love will be revealed and they'll live happily ever after. And it'll all be because I talked Ross into going to London. Love is going to find a way thanks to me and London!"

Joey furrowed his brow and looked at Monica as if she were speaking delirious gibberish.

Chandler nodded his head in Joey's direction. "Too much Hugh Grant."


	7. Father of Mine

**Father of Mine**

"I'm coming! I'm coming! Don't hang up!" Chandler pleaded as he jumped out of the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist and charged into the living room to answer the phone. Each ring sounded louder and more impatient. He left little puddles of water on the floor with every step he took, and the steam from the hot shower he was taking started to billow out from the open bathroom door.

Chandler paused before answering the phone and took a moment as he began to overthink the consequences of his current course of action. There was a chance that this call could be from the girl in accounting at his job. The one he finally worked up the courage to ask out. Maybe she was calling to cancel their date at the last minute. He wondered, that perhaps by letting it go to the machine, it would make her feel too uncomfortable to back out of tonight by leaving a message. Perhaps, if he did not answer, then the date would still be on. His brain began plays devil's advocate, and he pondered another scenario, what if it was her, and she needed some crucial information from him. She could have lost the address to the restaurant, or forgot what time they were supposed to meet. Conceivably, by not answering the right now, she would never get the answers that she required and not show up at all.

Normally, the endless possibilities of how this could all go wrong would freeze him in his tracks, as he went back-and-forth and worked out every disastrous outcome. The phone rang loudly once more and snapped him out of his stupor. For some reason, he stopped playing nightmare scenarios down in his mind. He reached for the phone with uncharacteristic determination, and he was not sure where this newfound confidence came from. It could be simply that the phone is already on its sixth ring; or a result from taking such a hot shower and feeling relaxed. Whatever the reason, he stopped over-thinking and quickly grabbed the receiver so he could answer the phone.

"Hello?" The only immediate response was silence from whoever was on the other line. He listened intently, and was certain that he heard someone breathing. "Hello, is someone there?"

"Chandler?" He stiffened up as soon as he heard the person's voice on the other end of the phone speak his name. It was unmistakably the husky, low voice of his father.

Ever since he moved into the city last year, Chandler had been avoiding both of his parents, and his father specifically. His goal, when striking out on his own, was to wash everything from his past away and to embark on a new chapter in his life. Where he was no longer that boy with the family problems everyone knew about. The kid whose parents never showed up for anything. The teenager, perpetually embarrassed and alone. The college kid who never went home for the holidays. Now that he had his own apartment in Manhattan, he could be whoever he wanted to be, or at least, whoever Monica let him be without calling him out for acting so strange when he tried to play off that he was a more confident and laid back individual.

It did not matter though, even when his close friends raised a suspicious eye-brow as he would tell people that he was a Kennedy. Any canard would do as far as he was concerned. Any lie about who he was had to be better than the truth. The truth that had finally tracked him down and waited patiently on the other end of the phone. He did not know what he was going to do, but he knew for damn sure that he was not done running away from it. He also knew that he would never have gotten a girl like the one in accounting to be interested in him if she knew everything from his sordid past.

"Chandler? Are you still there?"

Reluctantly, he swallowed down and found his voice. It was much harsher than he had thought it would be. "Yeah Dad. I'm here."

"Great. How is it going son? How is life in the big city."

"It's fine." Chandler's face became tense and strained. "Look, Dad. I don't really have time to talk. I'm getting ready to go out. Is there something you needed?" He knew he was being cold to his father, but he did not care. He had a moment of clarity, when he realized that, perhaps, brushing his father off so quickly after not talking to him for over a year could be perceived as harsh. Yet, the more he thought about it the more Chandler felt justified in doing just that.

"No son, I don't need anything." His father sounded very different than he had over the last few years. Nothing like the way he talked when he returned home after abandoning his family for so many years. That measured and almost iambic style of speech he had when Chandler was a small child was gone. Instead, when he finally returned, it was replaced with a tone that sounded boastful, confident, and almost musical as it lifted through the air. It was no longer the voice of Charles Bing that his father spoke with, it was now the voice of Helena Handbasket. Yet, today, as he spoke to his son over the phone, neither of those two voices were there. He sounded timid and unsure of himself. He sounded mournful. "I just wanted to tell you I was in town."

"Oh, is there some club you're playing at this week or something?"

"No, nothing like that. Actually, you remember my friend Jack Peterson? He used to come around the house when your mother and I were still married. Anyway, he died and I'm here for the funeral." Chandler was still caught off-guard from his father's rather meek tone. The boisterous, larger than life character he had been for so many years, now seemed drained of his vigor.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Dad. I'm sure you'll look lovely in black though. Now, I hate to do this, but I really have to go."

"Wait! Son, I wanted to, no, scratch that; I need to see you. Can we have lunch tomorrow? I'm staying at a hotel near the Village. I just need to talk to you. I promise it won't take a long time."

Chandler became quiet, holding the receiver off against his shoulder. Water was still dripping from his body and onto the floor. He waited there for a long moment, unsure of what to say. "Yeah. I guess. Fine. What hotel? " He accepted his father's invitation before he could stop himself.

"That's great son. Look, I'm staying at The Marlton. It is..."

Chandler cut him off before he could finish. "I know where it is. Fine. Say one 'o'clock?"

"Sounds great." For the first time during the phone call, Chandler's father sounded less like this deflated version of Charles and more like Helena. "Chandler, thank you."

Chandler hung up the phone before either one of them could say goodbye. He grumbled a bit and rubbed his face. It was undeniable to him that having lunch with his father was going to be a mistake, but he was better at avoiding people than confronting them, even over the phone. He took a deep breath as he realized that he will have to see his father. Someone he swore he would never see again.

* * *

A few hours later, Chandler found himself already walking up the stairs to his floor, his face still affected by his brief conversation with his father, which was probably why his date with the girl from accounting bombed. Once he reached the final landing of the stairwell and reached his floor, he turned to go to his apartment. He looked up as he saw Monica who was just about to walk into her own place across the hall.

She smirked at him and shrugged her shoulders. "Hey, that must have been some date. It's over and it isn't even 9:30."

"Yeah." Chandler's voice trailed off, almost as if he did not hear her words, he only knew that it was his turn to say something.

Monica turned to face him as he approached his door. "Chandler, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. I'm sure the date was great."

Chandler chuckled. "No, it wasn't. But whatever. I don't even know her last name."

"Pfft. Typical." Monica flashed a smile but became concerned when he did not respond in kind as he normally would. "Hey, are you okay? You don't look so good. Are you getting sick?"

Chandler slumped his shoulders. "I'm just tired. I'm going to go to bed"

"Okay, well, maybe we can do something tomorrow."

Chandler paused and looked at her before entering his apartment. "Oh, uh, I can't. I'm going into work. Maybe after that. We'll see."

"Oh." Monica, sensed something was amiss, and she walked towards him as he turned his back to her to open his apartment door. She was about to put her hand on his shoulder, press him to talk to her, but at the last minute, she pulled away and decided against it.

Chandler, not aware of how close she was to him, walked into his apartment and offered her a low and quiet, "night" as he shut the door without ever turning around to face her again.

Monica stood outside her door for a few minutes and looked in the direction of Chandler's apartment. She thought once again about going over and seeing what was wrong, but, knowing Chandler could be mercurial at times, and understanding that he benefits from spending time alone to brood, she decided to leave him alone for the night.

* * *

The next day, Chandler entered the lobby of The Marlton apprehensively. During his walk from his apartment to his father's hotel, he thought about bailing on lunch and just having a quick conversation right here, perhaps next to the elevator bank. He did not want to come here. He would have skipped out on him entirely, but he was certain that his father would say something to his mother, and eventually his mother would say something to him. Chandler did not want to have to deal with all of that. He saw this as ripping off a Band Aid that covered the few years since he and his father last spoke. He wanted to try and make this as quick and painless as possible.

Once he was inside, he started to look around; trying to find a statuesque, masculine woman that could only be Helena. With his father's penchant for wearing different wigs, he knew he would not be able to recognize him by his hair style or color. He scanned the room but he could only see a young couple with a child seated on a couch by the wall and an older man in a suit, with his back to the front door, seated at a high chair in front of a counter near the clutch of coffee dispensers. He figured his father must be running late and went to sit down in one of the other chairs, near the counter, with a view of the elevators.

When he sat down, he looked over at the man and nearly fell over from shock. He had to blink his eyes a few times just to make certain what he saw was not some mirage. It was his father. In a man's suit. Sipping coffee. Chandler had to take a moment before he approached his father. It was jarring. Chandler had not seen his father in a suit, much less in any style of men's clothing, since he was a child. He looked like the person that left his home all those years ago. He was older, a bit thin, with a sad look on his colorless face, but he was Charles. If his father had not already mentioned the funeral, Chandler would think his melancholy state was due to the clothes he was wearing. He approached him slowly from behind and studied him, just to confirm that it was indeed who he thought it was.

"Dad?"

Charles smiled and stood up. He reached out to hug Chandler, but Chandler extended his hand to him instead. They shook hands formally and looked at each other as if they were both strangers.

"Son, I'm so glad you came. Come on. There's a little coffee shop right next door."

"What's with the suit?"

"Oh, this? Drab, I know. Well, it's for the funeral." His father hugged his arms around himself as he looked embarrassed at the outfit he was wearing. Chandler smirked, thinking of all the more lavish

"Oh, I figured you would go all mob-wife with a black dress and a veil."

His father chuckled. "Oh I would have. But, Jack and I, uh, when your mother and I were still married, Jack and I had an affair. His family never knew about him. His sister did, but no one else. She made me promise not to dress, well, not to be in a dress."

They walked through the lobby and exited the hotel in silence. Charles motioned towards a café a few doors down and Chandler nodded. They made their way over and walked inside. The two men, neither one ready to break the silence, approached the front counter apprehensively. Chandler scoffed as he looked over the menu that was scrawled on a chalkboard hanging over the register.

"Can you believe these prices? Why would anyone make a habit of buying coffee at one of these overpriced shops when you can get a pound of it from the grocery store for less and just make it yourself?"

His father pursed his lips as he scanned the menu. "Oh, I don't know. Sometimes it is nice to be out. Sit with a friend and enjoy a cup of coffee. You can people watch. Maybe you meet a nice man. Or, in your case, a nice girl."

"Gee, thanks Dad."

Chandler ordered a coffee and a scone. His father got tea and a prepackaged salad. "I've got to watch those carbs. I don't need one of my dresses to split while I'm in the middle of 'I Will Survive'. That one is always a crowd pleaser." The two men sat down and Charles slowly opened the container to his salad. "You should come to one of my shows. I'm in Vegas now."

"Dad. I've seen plenty of your," Chandler paused and used his fingers to make air quotes. "shows. I've seen enough shirtless dancing men to last me a lifetime. Thanks though."

His father shook his head. "Oh no Chandler, that was just rehearsal. This is the real thing. This is Vegas."

Chandler offered up a sarcastic chuckle. "I'm very happy for you."

They were quiet again for a few minutes as they ate and sipped at their drink. Charles cleared his throat and looked at Chandler. "So, son, have you seen your mother lately?"

"We aren't exactly that close."

Charles shook his head again. "That's a shame. I know your mother and I don't get along, but you should really try and talk to her. She probably misses you."

"Thanks, but maybe you aren't the most qualified person to be doling out the family advice?"

Chandler started to become visibly upset and Charles raised his hands and gestured for him to calm down.

"Okay, I deserve that. Look, son, I know I haven't always been there"

Chandler cut him off. "More like you have never been there."

Charles took in a deep breath. "Okay, maybe I deserve that too, but I was hoping that we could try and fix that. I'm here now. I want to try and be a part of your life."

"Pass."

Charles, despite his best efforts to restrain himself, became incredulous at his son's dismissive behavior. "What?"

Chandler let loose with a loud, frustrated sigh. "Look, Dad. Don't worry about it. Okay? You don't have to try and ease your conscience. I absolve you. So now you can go out to Vegas and live your dream guilt-free."

"Son, look, this isn't about you forgiving me. I know you don't approve of my lifestyle, but I will not apologize for being who I am. It took me a long time to figure that out. I am not going to be like Jack, all bottled up. Hiding who he was all the way up until the day he died. I can't go back to being that person."

Chandler laughed. "Dad, shut up. I don't care about your lifestyle. I care that you left me when I was a kid, and if we're being honest, you weren't all that great before you left either. You were too busy having affairs and having sex; sex that I got to witness firsthand several times because you didn't know how to lock a door. You disappeared and didn't come back until you were..." he paused, looking for the right words to say, "Until you were your new self. And when you did come back you still didn't really care about me. It was all about you and your stupid costumes and your stupid dance numbers that you made me take a part in. You never asked me how I felt about any of it. Don't pretend you care now. Do you know what dancing for your dad in his drag revue after he sleeps with your teacher and shows up to your school dressed like Jayne Mansfield does to the social life of a 15-year-old? Don't get on your high horse thinking this is about you being gay. This is another dumb attempt to make yourself feel better about what a terrible father you were, and I am not helping you do that."

Chandler threw his napkin down, stood up and stormed out of the café.

Charles watched the door close behind him and dropped his head down. "Damn it."

* * *

After spending the day walking around the city in a fog, Chandler finally made his way back home. Upon hearing him in the hallway, Monica jumped out of her door. "Hey, you feeling any better?"

He smirked a bit and shrugged his shoulders. "Not really."

"Well, look, I have to try some new recipes from the restaurant so I can get used to how to prepare them. How about you come over, and I feed you and we can drink some wine and we can watch a movie and you can just try to forget about whatever it is that's bothering you." She put her hand out to hold his and he surprised himself by taking it.

He smiled at her and nodded. "Okay, that actually sounds really good. Let me just go change my clothes."

"Okay! Great!" Monica smiled and, feeling as if she won some contest of wills, did a little fist pump as she let go of his hand. She tilted her head a little and looked past him towards his door. "I think your phone is ringing."

Chandler looked over his shoulder at his door and nodded. He turned around and walked into his apartment, but before he could answer the phone, his machine picked up.

"_You've reached Chandler Bing. I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message. Thanks." _

"Chandler, Hi. It's Dad. Look, I would be lying if I tried to say that what you said this afternoon wasn't true. And maybe I was being selfish and I didn't think about you. But I really want to try to do that now. When I get settled in Vegas, I'll call you and leave you my number. Maybe, you can come out to see me. I'd really like to try and make it up to you. I'm sorry son, and I hope you'll call me."

Chandler looked down at the answering machine for what felt like an eternity. He did not move from his position at the counter. He just watched the red light on the machine blink. Finally, he shook his head, walked over to the machine and pressed down on the "delete message" button.

* * *

After changing into some comfortable sweats, Chandler walked into Monica's apartment and his mood lifted almost as soon as the aroma of the food she was preparing hit him. Monica stood at the kitchen table where several bowls and different kinds of food and ingredients were spread about.

"Hey, that smells good. Can I do anything to help?"

Monica, without looking up at him, shook her head. She remained focused on the food she was preparing and gestured with her head for him to go into the living room."No, I have to learn these and do them myself. You can just sit down. I grabbed Die Hard from the video store; I know you like that one."

Chandler made his way to the couch and stretched out on it, putting his feet up on the coffee table. "Thanks. Food, booze, my favorite movie. Are you trying to get on my good side?"

"Well, if I'm being honest, it just looked like you could use a little pick-me-up."

Chandler slowly nodded. "Well, you're right. I do."

"If you want to talk about it, I'm here."

He turned to look over at her and offered a relaxed smile. "Thanks Mon. Really."

"So who was that on the phone? Was it the girl from the other night?"

Chandler looked down at the floor for a moment and shook his head. "No, It was nobody. Nobody important."


	8. Next Plane to London

**Next Plane to London**

Chandler stuffed his carry-on bag into the overhead compartment and then quickly slid into the row of seats underneath it as he positioned himself against the window. He looked up at the other passengers as they filed onto the plane. He watched them as they pushed past each other and waited impatiently for a chance to put away their own bags and find their seats. To Chandler, it was a slow, futile parade; everyone rushing to sit on a plane and wait for seven hours before they arrive at their destination.

Chandler despised everything about air travel. He hated standing in never-ending line at the airport, dealing with the security check and waiting at the gate in those tiny plastic chairs until they were called to board. He was always uncomfortable whenever he had to squeeze past people on the plane as he moved about the cabin to find his seat, never knowing if he should face someone or turn his back to them. He loathed the tiny bathrooms and the tight seats. He despised sitting with strangers and sharing an armrest with someone he did not know; to avoid it all entirely, he would fold his arms for the duration of the flight and then deal with the soreness of cramming his six foot frame into such a tiny space when it was over. He would get disgusted when people took their shoes off and picked at their feet, even though he also knew the wild discomfort that wearing sneakers and sitting in one position for long time could bring. He dreaded the way everything sounded until his ears would pop after the plane landed and how he never knew what exactly he should do with the wrappers and empty soda cans when the flight was over. Then there was the waiting at the baggage claim and hoping that his bag was not misplaced, and when it would arrive on the carousel, he had to squeeze in-between people to try and grab it before it disappeared, and he was forced wait for it to come around again.

He looked around the cabin and saw Ross a few rows down. He was also already seated and when they made eye contact, he gave Chandler a little head-nod as a sign of solidarity. Chandler slid the magazine he planned to read during the flight into the pocket attached to the seat in front of him. He shuffled through some of the placards on plane safety that were already stored in there, but lost interest quickly and settled on looking out the window as he mindlessly inspected the activity on the tarmac.

"Hey, do you think I can get the window seat?"

Chandler, startled from his daydreaming, snapped his head around and saw Monica standing at the edge of his row of seats. "I thought I was sitting next to Joey. Where is he?"

"He ran over to that newsstand to grab an extra candy bar for the flight. I told him he should have thought about that before we started boarding, but he did some kind of weird food math and said he had to have one more available to make it all the way to London. He better not miss this flight because he is buying a Clark Bar or a Toblerone!"

Chandler smirked as he picked up on Monica's tone, which made her sound as if she were scolding an unruly child instead of talking about a grown man.

"Well, he did hit it off with the woman who checked our tickets out front, knowing Joe, he probably convinced her to hold the plane for him. I thought he had this seat. Am I in the wrong row?" Chandler took out his ticket from his jacket pocket and studied it.

Monica shoved her carry-on bag into the overhead compartment next to Chandler's and then looked back down at him. "You're in the right row. I switched with Joe. Can I get the window?"

Chandler nodded, although still confused, and lifted himself up from his seat as Monica squeezed into the row and rubbed past him, settling into the window seat that he was just occupying.

"Why did you switch?"

Monica pursed her lips as if she were carefully contemplating her answer. "I feel like we haven't had a chance to just hang out and talk in a while and I thought this would be a good opportunity to catch up."

Chandler looked over at her suspiciously and then gestured with his thumb towards the other side of the plane. "Ross told you to switch seats if you didn't stop bothering him about all the wedding planning they still have to do."

Monica looked down and sheepishly played with the sleeves of her shirt. "Maybe."

Chandler laughed. "You've got to let him handle this on his own. He and Emily will work it all out and it will be beautiful."

Monica waved her arms emphatically as if she were dismissing him. "I'm a valuable resource! If I didn't send him to London, this wouldn't even be happening!"

"But when you sent him to London, didn't Emily come to New York. If anything, you made them miss each other." Chandler looked over at her smugly and started to let a satisfied smile spread across his lips.

"That's beside the point!" Monica huffed and looked out the window. "I wasn't lying though. About you and me getting some time together."

"Really? Why? Is there something you want to talk about?"

Monica's tone softened as she tried to convey how sincere she felt about what she was about to say. "I feel like we've been out of sync ever since the whole apartment switching fiasco. We weren't very nice to each other."

Chandler huffed and folded his arms. "Well, you stole my apartment."

"My apartment!" She shouted angrily. "That was my apartment! I can't even believe you would go through with that!"

Chandler started to become agitated and blew hot air through his lips. "What? Oh, so I guess if you guys had won you wouldn't make us get rid of the birds?"

Monica threw her hands up in frustration. "Those birds are a filthy menace to everyone in the building!" She then calmed down and took a deep breath. "Look, it wasn't just the swap. I feel like you were kind of being a jerk about it."

Chandler looked over at her and opened his mouth, ready to retort with some sardonic and cutting remark, but showed restraint and closed his mouth again as he stopped himself. He reflected for a moment on his behavior over the last few months and his features softened as he looked at Monica. "I guess you're right. Maybe Joey and I overdid it with the gloating. You know though, you weren't exactly an angel yourself. And you were the ones who stole it back. We won fair and square!"

"You were yelling at us anytime we tried to talk about it! You were acting like you used to before you ever moved into the building. You were being that jerk who Ross went to college with and not my best friend of the last five or six years. The one who I always feel grateful for that he lives just across the hall. Who I can go to for anything." Monica folded her arms and blew a random strand of hair from her face out of frustration.

Chandler gestured with his hands in an attempt to get them both to calm down. "Okay. You're probably right. I was short tempered for a while. I think I was probably still bitter about all the Kathy stuff. I'm sorry if I took that out on you."

"I'm sorry too. I don't think I was any better. I know we still hung out, but the whole thing with the apartments was just there, weighing over everything for me. Every time I saw you or Joey, I just felt so mad about it and it didn't seem like you could pick up on it like you always do when I am upset." Monica reached over to gently touch Chandler's arm. "It was like we weren't really seeing each other the way we normally do, even though we were together with the rest of the gang all the time."

"Look." Chandler wrapped his arm around her shoulder and squeezes her into him affectionately for a hug. "Everything is back to normal now, right? You're back in your apartment. We're all going to London for Ross and Emily's wedding. Let's just forget all about this past year and try to have fun. Neither of us has a date, right? So, we can hang out at the rehearsal dinner together and then at the reception and have fun like we used to. It'll be like Ross' first wedding all over again."

"I'd like that." Monica tilted her head with a puzzled look on her face. "Wait. What about Joey? He isn't bringing anybody to the wedding either. We should probably include him in this too."

Chandler looked off to the side and chuckled. "You're right. He doesn't have a date, but I don't expect that to last. Waitress, bartender, bridesmaid, Queen Elizabeth, it really could be anybody by the time we get to the rehearsal dinner."

Monica laughed, "One of us could meet someone there. Maybe you meet a waitress and I meet a duke or a sir or something."

"I'm just going with the odds, Monica." Chandler leaned back in his seat and began to adjust the headrest.

"I guess if we don't meet anybody, we can keep each other company. That might be nice, not to feel any pressure to deal with all that." Monica folded up her jacket and placed it on her lap. "isn't this exciting?"

"Yes, I love sitting in a plane during a take-off delay in a cramped seat. It's so much fun!" Chandler smiled at her sarcastically.

Monica playfully slapped him on the arm as she rolled her eyes. "No silly, I mean a destination wedding. A whirlwind romance! It seems so magical." She looked down at her hands for a moment and fidgeted with her fingers. "I just have to convince him to put salmon on the menu."

"Salmon?"

"Yes! It is so elegant and perfect for weddings."

Chandler mocked a face of disgust. "And gross."

"You're gross."

Chandler folded his arms and huffed indignantly. "I thought we were being nice to each other."

Monica raised her eyebrows as a look of admonishment fell across her face. "Being nice means agreeing with me about the wedding."

Chandler nodded in surrender. "Okay, just remember whose wedding this is."

"Trust me, my mother will do that plenty for both of us." Monica shook her head as if she were removing the thought of her mother's nagging from her mind. "Do you have your speech ready?"

Chandler became giddy and bounced a little in his seat. "Got it right here!" He patted down on the inside pocket of his jacket. "I am going to kill with some of these jokes."

Monica sighed loudly. "C'mon Chandler. Don't tell any jokes. This is a wedding; it is supposed to be romantic!"

Chandler mock repeated her words in a whiny voice. Monica slapped his arm again and flashed him a stern look. He rubbed his arm and offered up an exaggerated "Ow!" in response.

They were quiet for a little while as they shifted in their seats and tried to get comfortable for the long flight ahead. Chandler noticed Joey making his way to his seat next to Ross and pointed him out to Monica. She smiled as she squeezed Chandler's arm as a sign of relief.

"Did you set your watch yet?"

"What do you mean?"

Monica rolled her eyes, unable to comprehend his ignorance to her question. "London is five hours ahead."

Chandler laughed and shook his head. "Monica. We haven't even taken off yet."

"I know, but it is always good to do it ahead of time, because when we get there we have to go to customs, and get our bags and a dozen other things that could make you forget. Then you'll get there and be on the wrong time and if you don't notice it could really mess you up. Here, let me do it." Monica grabbed at Chandler's wrist and began to fiddle with the buttons on his digital watch. "There. Now you're on London time."

Chandler laughed at her obsessive need to change his watch right there and then. "Thanks. Now I'm on London time in New York. That should come in handy."


	9. It Ain't Me Babe

**It Ain't Me Babe**

"Chandler! Come over here!"

Chandler Bing winces a bit at the stentorian, shrill voice that shouts his name. He shakes his head and stands in amazement that his new neighbor can yell loud enough to be clearly heard from across the hall and through two Manhattan apartment steel doors. He has only been living in the same building as Monica Geller for a few weeks, yet he has seen her more in that small amount of time than he had since he first met her years ago.

When the idea of moving into apartment 19 was first brought up at a dinner at Ross' apartment, it sounded like a good idea, until he came to look at it. Monica gave Chandler a stern warning to stay out of her business; initially assuming he was there to spy on her for her brother, and not simply just looking for a place to live. However, ever since he moved in, and despite her protests, he had not been able to go through one day without being beckoned over to her apartment. There was always a light bulb that needed to be changed, that was too high for her to reach or she would constantly have an extra laundry bag to carry downstairs. Sometimes it might be discovering the origin of strange noises that crackled through her apartment, or it might just be an actor on the television whose name she could not remember. She would offer a spoonful of some recipe she was working on for him to taste or require help moving the couch so she could vacuum underneath it. It seemed, there was no task too insignificant to enlist his help. Since he moved in, he has become part pack-mule, part indentured servant and part guinea pig.

He chuckles to himself as he thinks about the last month of his life and quickly makes his way over to her apartment. He scans the room and sees her standing by the window they use to get to the balcony.

"You rang?'

"I can't get this closed. The latch won't stay on."

"Thanks. I was writing a book all about your life in the big city. This will make for a fascinating chapter."

Monica turns her head to face him and squints her eyes in disdain. "Har-dee-har-har. Get over here and help me close this. We should be able to do it together."

Chandler walks over and looks at the window. "Great. Manual labor. My favorite. What do you want me to do?"

Monica grunts a bit as she tries to push the lower half of the window up a few inches. "Just grab the latch and push down on it. I'll push up from the bottom."

Chandler shrugs his shoulders and places his hand on the window sill. He pushes down as hard as he can, straining to get the lock to line up when suddenly he hears a snap that sounds distinctly like something metal being broken in half. He looks down at her and sees the pieces of the lower bracket crumbling in Monica's grasp.

She tosses her head back as she loudly laments. "Oh man, I did it again!"

Chandler's eyes go wide as he appears shocked at her display of strength. "You did what again? Break metal with your bare hands, she-hulk?"

Monica shoots him a austere look and drops the broken pieces of the latch and bracket onto the ledge. "Well, I guess I better call Treeger to fix this."

Chandler's face twists into an exasperated expression. "Why didn't you just do that from the start? I'm no handy man!"

Monica walks over to the phone and picks up the receiver. "I don't know what kind of man you are." She smirks a little while Chandler walks over to the kitchen sink and he turns on the faucet.

Monica shoots him a glare from over her shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"I'm playing the violin. What does it look like I'm doing? I'm washing my hands."

She shakes her head in disbelief. "You don't wash your hands in the kitchen sink. You wash them in the bathroom. The kitchen sink is for dishes." She points demonstratively towards the bathroom door, commanding him to follow her instructions and adhere to her hand washing rules.

Over these last few weeks, Chandler has come to realize that Monica has a million rules for even the most mundane of tasks. What towel you use to dry your hands, how to properly hang your coat, what to do with a wet umbrella, how to fold a sheet, what way the phone pen should face. Just when Chandler figured he had finally gotten to the last of the Monica Geller guidelines, she would spring more on him.

"Oh, I guess the soap and running water over here is just for show." He turns the water off and meanders over to the bathroom.

Monica yells at him over her shoulder, "And don't use that pretty blue bar of soap shaped like a seashell. That's for guests."

He mimics her words in an unintelligible and mocking voice. "What guests? I've been here a month and the only person you've had over here besides me has been Ross."

"Oh shut up." Monica pulls her hand up to her mouth in embarrassment. "What? Oh no, not you Mr. Treeger. I wasn't telling you to shut up. What? No, I need my window fixed. The latch broke and I can't get it to lock. What do you mean first thing in the morning? But I can't lock the window. It's the one that opens up to the balcony! Ugh! All right." She hangs up the phone and looks over towards the bathroom. "He says he can't fix it until tomorrow because he has to get the parts from the hardware store."

"Thanks. That's just the twist ending my book needs."

Monica rolls her eyes. "C'mon, I can't sleep in here with a window that won't lock. Someone could climb up the fire escape and get in."

Chandler rubs his chin. "That does seem like a problem." He turns towards the front door. "Well, good night."

Monica folds her arms across her chest and looks over at him. "Chandler, come on. Help me figure out what to do."

"Okay. How about this. I go get my tape recorder and when I press the record button you just start yelling at me like you normally do. Then, we'll play it on a loop. That should scare any potential burglars away."

Monica huffs. "Come on. Be serious. Go and see if you have something to lock this window with. Don't you have a toolbox or something?"

"Have you met me?"

"We need to think of something." Monica starts to look around the room nervously.

Chandler sighs and a genuine look of concern crosses his face. "Okay, I have an idea. I'll be right back." He rushes across the hall and back to his apartment. He returns a few minutes later holding a small, novelty baseball bat. "What if we wedge this in there and block the window from opening?"

Monica's eyes light up. "Oooo, that's good. That could work."

Chandler attempts to get the bat jammed up in the window, hoping to force it between the rail and the head of the window frame to hold it in place. He finally slides it in and raises his arms triumphantly. "Taa daa! Home security by Bing."

Monica inspects his work carefully. "That looks good." She tries to move it side-to-side, but the small bat appears to be lodged tightly. "I have to hand it to you Bing, you are pretty resourceful." She then lightly taps on the window pane a few times and the bat drops out and falls on the floor.

Chandler picks it up and offers it to Monica. "Okay, new plan. You sleep with this and beat off anyone who breaks in."

"I should beat you with it."

Chandler mocks being offended. "Hey, I'm trying to help. I'm not the one with the superhuman strength that decided to break a metal latch."

"Chandler. I won't be able to sleep knowing this window isn't locked. Maybe you can sleep on the couch?" She holds her hands together and sways innocently from side-to-side.

Chandler exhales out a chuckle. "I'm sorry, bravery isn't really my thing. How about I offer you a dirty limerick?"

Monica grabs his arm, vulnerability flashes in her eyes. "Chandler, I'm serious. I won't be able to sleep at all."

He looks at her and smiles out of the side of his mouth. "How about you stay at my place tonight."

"What about all my stuff?"

Chandler laughs and looks around the room. "Yes, all your stuff that all the top criminals in the city want to get their hands on. " He walks into the kitchen and lifts up a vase. "The street value of this vase with the eyeballs on it is out of this world. And look at this." Chandler puts the vase back and jogs into the living room. He picks up paper weight shaped like an asterisk. "I bet you could feed a family of four for weeks on this!"

Monica slaps him playfully on the chest. "Will you cut it out!"

Chandler puts the odd-looking piece of décor back down on the end table. "Look, why don't you pack a bag of some of the more important stuff that you want to keep an eye on and bring it over with you? I'll go over there and order us some food and we can watch TV to get your mind off the window."

Monica throws her arms around his neck and _proceeds_ to give him a tight hug. "Thanks Chandler." She lets him go and slips into her bedroom. "I'll just need a few minutes. Can you order Chinese?"

Chandler laughs as he starts to walk out of her apartment. "Sure. You want your usual?" Monica pokes her head out of her bedroom door and nods. "All right. I'll see you over there." They share a quick smile and she returns to her room as he walks out the door.


	10. Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts

**Bigger Boys and Stolen Sweethearts**

Dr. Richard Burke hurries through the streets of Greenwich Village; politely sidestepping past the other pedestrians who are clogging up the sidewalk and slowing him down. He glances at his watch, noting he only has ten more minutes to get to the coffee house to meet up with his girlfriend before he is late. He smirks and shakes his head at the word that flashes across his mind. _"Girlfriend"_. He feels a bit silly using that term at his age, but he has not been able to come up with something he considers more appropriate. He is a man of almost fifty dating a woman in her twenties, and he feels like a teenager. Whether it is worrying about being late to a date, the overwhelming desire to impress her and to win over her friends, or how nervous he can get about his sexual performance. He chuckles and thinks to himself, _"No wonder I feel like a teenager, I'm acting like I am in high school all over again."_

He knows that he should be much more confident about himself and this relationship then he has been so far. For any other man his age, this would be considered living out a cliché fantasy; dating a beautiful and vibrant young woman like Monica. A normal guy in his situation would probably be at the bar, enjoying back slaps and high fives from his friends while they buy him a congratulatory beer and asking him for every intimate detail. Maybe, if it was any other woman, he would be doing just that. This is not some other woman; this is Monica Geller. One of his oldest friend's daughter. A girl he had known since she was a child. There are red flags popping up at every turn of this burgeoning relationship which has been causing him to feel less than comfortable bragging about it to his friends. If anything, Richard believes he should probably be thinking about turning around and running the other way; yet, he can't help himself. She is not only the most beautiful and sexiest woman he has ever known, but also one of the most amazing people he had ever met.

Monica may be in her twenties, but she has the maturity of a much older woman. She isn't interested in parties or the nightlife, she doesn't spend time talking about shallow gossip or pop culture. She has goals, she has purpose, she has focus. She listens and engages with him in what he talks about. She shows interest in the things he likes. They even took time to discuss the ramifications of their odd coupling and came to an agreement on how to deal with it and all the possible fallout together, like adults. It also doesn't hurt that, much to Richard's liking, she makes a damn good ossobuco.

He turns the corner and sees the familiar sign for Central Perk. He lets out a relieved sigh as he briskly walks towards the door. He is genuinely excited to see her. He knows Monica will most likely be surrounded by her friends, sitting on the couch that they inexplicably, always seem to get. He still doesn't fully understand why she spends so much time here, or why her and all of her friends practically do everything together. Richard likes them well enough, and they are all fairly nice people, once you get to know them. Yet, being around this group all the time does not help him forget the most troublesome aspects of dating a twenty-seven-year-old woman; the age gap. Also, if he were being honest, Monica's friends could become very tiresome when with them for too long. Maybe though, that's a side-effect of getting married so young. He had children and was already an ophthalmologist by the time he was their age. His experiences throughout his twenties was very different than Monica's and the group of people she surrounds herself with. They are what people his age would probably call slackers. They seem to have little ambition and no plan.

Richard does like her friends though, or at least, he is making an effort to like them. There is Joey, who from what he can tell, does not have a great work ethic. He sleeps late, never seems to have any money on him, and hits on every woman he sees. He's nice enough, but he is not the brightest guy Richard has ever met, and he still talks about women as if he were in high school. He is practically an overgrown child.

Phoebe seems sort of sweet and childlike herself. She is definitely a free spirit, but Richard had enough of hippies back in the 1960s when he first encountered them. He found those kinds of people a little upsetting. They tend to take things less seriously and don't like to have their world view challenged. Richard finds that he has to bite his tongue around her, because he is not interested in having a conversation where he bursts her bubble. That would only make him look like the bad guy.

Ross he already knew, but Monica's brother was still sort of cold to him. Richard is pretty sure Ross isn't as happy about their relationship as he has let on. He is also keenly aware that Jack could be using Ross to keep tabs on them, so he is making an effort to win him over and dial down the public displays of affection when Ross is around. Another juvenile aspect of being with someone so young.

Then you have Ross' girlfriend and Monica's roommate, Rachel. Richard has had a hard time getting a handle on exactly what kind of person she is, even though he knew her when she was younger as well. She can go from hot-to-cold with Ross, showcasing a bit of immaturity herself. She seems okay. Maybe a little shallow and materialistic. Yet, he understands how important she is to Monica, so he is motivated to make her like him as well.

Lastly, there is Chandler. He is an odd one. He can go from talkative and jovial to quiet and introspective at the drop of a hat. He looks like a nervous kid, which was ironic to Richard, because he seems to have the most going for him out of everyone in the group. Chandler appears to have a solid, high paying job, and since he wears a suit all the time, Richard assumes he must have an important position at his company that he takes seriously.

Chandler also appears to be very generous. Over these last few weeks, Richard has observed that Chandler has paid for a lot of Central Perk checks and take-out orders for the group without showing off about it. If it was not for the constant jokes he spews, Chandler would not seem as needy as the others. Yet, for all that outward success, Richard can tell Chandler is also a bundle of nerves, riddled with self-doubt.

In a way, he reminds Richard of himself at a much younger age; when he was an insecure teenager, awkward and self-conscious about his height. No one believes him now, but he did not have a lot of luck with girls when he was in high school. It's hard to get a date when you're more than a foot taller than the tallest girl in school. He played sports to compensate, and that seemed to help, but it still took Richard until his senior year to get his first date. That was when he met his ex-wife Barbara. They fell in love, and once that happened. All that awkwardness and self-conscious behavior faded away. He wonders to himself, if maybe that's all Chandler needs, find the right woman to love, and he would learn to let go of all those insecurities, leaving a confident and mature man in his place. Like it did for Richard.

As he enters the coffee house, he winces as he can already hear the off-key tune playing from the stage. He wonders if he is really doing this now, at his age? Sitting in a coffee house all night, listening to some half-talented musician, as if he was a beatnik who dropped out of college. Is this his life now? Every night hanging out with a bunch of kids that he had nothing in common, with simply because of how head over heel he has fallen for a girl almost half his age.

He thinks about walking up to announce his arrival immediately, but he decides to get a cup of coffee first, and just observe for a moment. He figures it is probably best to wait until the song was over before joining the group. He approaches the counter, orders his drink and looks back at the area around the stage. He does a quick head count of everyone who is there, to prepare for which Richard he needed to be tonight. Phoebe is on the stage playing the guitar. He sees Ross and Rachel sharing a chair. Then he scans over to the couch. Joey is perched on one end, Monica, looking radiant, in the middle and Chandler is slumped down in the corner on the other end.

He smiles for a moment, content to watch them as they all seem to be enjoying themselves. Phoebe sounds like she is singing some nonsensical song about cats and they are all bopping their heads along to the tune. As he watches them his smile quickly turns to a look of concern as he notices something that bothers him, almost immediately. Monica and Chandler, huddled together, intimately close, and holding hands. Worse than that, Chandler's hand is resting on her leg and she seems to be extremely comfortable with that.

Richard knows that the entire group is very close. He would walk into Monica's apartment sometimes and they would all alternate who was sitting next to who, but this looks very different than two friends simply sitting next to each other. He never had a group of friends that were together this often, so he does understand some things are going to be different about them than your average clique. Still, he is from a generation where you don't hold hands with someone else's girlfriend, and you certainly don't touch her leg with a familiarity that illustrates intimacy. Times may have changed, but he is sure they haven't changed that much.

He contemplates going over and breaking them up. He thinks to himself that he can probably just walk around the couch and innocently ask to sit next to Monica, marking his territory as subtlety as he could. He hesitates though; he wants to make sure whatever he does end up doing, that he doesn't come across as "that guy". The guy who is obnoxious and jealous. The guy who embarrasses his girlfriend in public in a way that everyone can see that she belongs to him. He doesn't need to do any of that. He has enough self-control to stop himself from doing anything, anyway. Thanks to the experience that comes with age, he realizes that he needs to take pause and think rationally for a moment. _"What do I have to be jealous of anyway? It's just that guy Chandler. I'm not even sure if he is straight."_ He shakes his head and almost chuckles at himself. He decides to be the more mature man, do nothing, and wait for his coffee.

As he stands there in the back of the room, he notices Phoebe signaling for her friends to join her and they all take turns singing that dreadful song he heard the last time he was here. As he watches them, he considers that maybe the hand holding is innocent enough and he was reading too much into it before. Monica sings a verse first, she has the biggest smile and obviously is just having fun with her friends. Richard smiles and shakes his head one more time, but his smile fades as his head shaking ceases. He sees Monica's face light up as she coaxes Chandler to take a turn and sing. She squeezes his hand and bounces it on her leg rhythmically. Her eyes sparkle and her smile widens as Chandler reluctantly complies with her wishes. As Richard watches all of this unfold, all he can think about is if she has ever had that look on her face when she was with him.

Richard straightens up and looks down at the floor. He can't help but wonder to himself, _"Is there something going on between them? Are they exes?"_ He is no longer sure what to think about Monica and Chandler. He tells himself, once again, that he is not jealous, but, at the very least, he can admit, that he isn't exactly comfortable with this situation either.

His coffee finally arrives at the same time that it appears they are finishing up the second chorus. Once the song is over everyone stands up and start chatting. Richard decides that this is the best time to join them. He walks over and, thankfully, Monica and Chandler were already separated a bit, the distance between them growing. Chandler steps over to the other side of the could and starts talking to Ross while Monica makes her way over to Phoebe.

Richard puts on his best face and makes sure to speak in an upbeat tone. "Hey guys."

Monica turns first, "Oh, great! You made it!" She hurries over to him and places a small kiss on his lips, he looks over briefly to see if Chandler is watching, and hates himself for doing that. _"This isn't high school and I am not a kid."_ He shakes his head again and decides to ignore his lingering discomfort and act casual. He shakes hands with Joey. Ross only offers him a cold nod, and Rachel flashes a smile. Chandler turns his head to grumble out a quick "Oh, hey Richard." Which draws even more suspicion. _"Is he intentionally being stand offish? Maybe he is upset about me being with Monica? Maybe they aren't exes, maybe he has a crush?"_ Before Richard can think more of it, Phoebe starts talking about adding more verses to the song so everyone could sing something next time and then ask if anyone knows a word that rhymes with scratch.

Richard and Monica sit back down on the couch and he makes sure to wrap his arm around her shoulder as he pulls her into his body. Even though he hates to admit it, he is being that guy that marks his territory. He looks up again, but Chandler isn't even paying attention. _"Is he so jealous that he can't even look at us?"_ Richard is not sure why, but he does think the mood in the room has changed quickly.

The gang never find their seats again and instead they start to break up for the night. Ross and Rachel leave first, making their way out the door while holding hands. Joey was next, muttering something about an early table read for "Days of Our Lives". Phoebe finishes packing up her guitar and takes off shortly after that, leaving only Chandler, who stands around for a few minutes. He looks over at Richard and Monica on the couch, and he says goodnight as he exits the coffee house. Richard assumes he must have felt like a third wheel.

Monica turns to Richard and plants another small kiss on his lips. "I'm so glad you were able to make it. I was thinking we could go out to a late dinner, but now, maybe we go to your place, order some take-out and get naked for a few hours."

Richard smiles and laughs. Another one of the benefits of being with a younger woman in the nineties as opposed to the sixties, she is very comfortable with her sexuality. It suits him though, he likes that he does not have to be the aggressive partner when it came to sex. Richard lets a smile curl his lips. He is ready to agree with her change of plans and leave for an evening in bed. Yet, there is this nagging thing in his mind about her and Chandler, and before he can let go and enjoy their night, he has to say something to her about it. Otherwise, he could find that it distracts him all night.

"That sounds great. I do some of my best eating naked. I'm sorry I missed the last song."

Monica huffs out a quick laugh. "Oh, I wouldn't be. But if you want, we can come here tomorrow night, she is doing another show then."

"Sure." Richard is not exactly thrilled about agreeing to come here again so quickly. He has an early appointment the next day, and he really does not like Phoebe's music. "So, you guys are all really close, huh?"

Monica nods and smiles as she takes his hand. "Yeah. Well, you know that I've known Rachel all my life, and Phoebe and I used to live together."

Richard nods. "I didn't know that about you and Phoebe. What about the guys?"

"Well, Joey, I've known for a few years now, ever since he started living across the hall."

Richard clears his throat. "And Chandler?"

Monica looks off to the side and smiles. "I've known his for a really long time. Now that I think of it. I think, yes, it'll be nine years this Thanksgiving."

Richard, trying to sound nonchalant, finally broaches the topic he was really interested in. "Well, you both seem close."

Monica turns to face him. "For a while, we were each other's only friend in the city. With Ross getting married and neither of us having a roommate, we just sort of did everything together. He's probably my closest friend. At least he was until Rachel came back into the picture."

Richard nods. "You guys ever, ah, date or anything?"

Monica gives off a hearty laugh. "Me and Chandler? No."

Richard unintentionally flashes a relieved smile. Although satisfied with her answer, he still has this need to push the topic. "Did you guys ever fool around?"

Monica's smile fades and she looks confused and slightly offended. "No. What is this about?"

Richard starts to feel guilty; he pats her hand and his tone softens. "Nothing. You guys just seem really comfortable together. Really close. It just made me wonder."

Monica smiles and starts to cackle. "Oh my goodness. Is Dr. Richard Burke jealous of Chandler Bing?"

Richard, gets defensive and shakes his head while smiling. "What? Noooo? I wouldn't say jealous. Maybe just mildly curious."

Monica pats him on his thigh. "Well, there is nothing to be curious about. We are just good friends. Men and women can be friends without it ever getting physical."

Richard suddenly realizes how much he is overreacting to a glimpse into her relationship with Chandler and a sheepish expression falls over his face. "No, I know. I didn't mean anything by it. Just, seeing you guys interact tonight. I guess I got a little carried away."

Monica smiles. "I think that's sweet. But, seriously, you have nothing to worry about with me and any of the guys. I was actually just trying to cheer Chandler up. Joey moved out and he got this new roommate that is giving him some bad vibes. It's kind of what we do. We look out for each other." Monica pauses and chuckles lightly. "It's funny though."

Richard, looking perplexed, tilts his head. "What?"

"Well, most men I date ask me about Joey. No one has ever asked me about Chandler."

"Joey seems nice, but he doesn't strike me as your type."

"And Chandler does?"

"No, he just seems, a little more complicated than Joey. He has a few more layers to him."

Monica smirks. "Maybe. I mean, for the most part he is a big man-child. He is just, well, he's like having another brother around." Monica decides to hold off getting into exactly how close they have been through the years. She realizes that trying to explain the nature of their platonic relationship might only make Richard feel worse.

Richard nods, finally able to move on. "Maybe we need to set him up with someone."

Monica shakes her head slowly in response. "He isn't ready for that. He doesn't do commitment."

Richard takes Monica's hand. "Really? That's too bad. Maybe he just needs to find the right woman to help him get over all that. I know it doesn't seem like it, after this conversation, but out of all your friends, I think I like him the most. I'm kind of rooting for him."

Monica smiles. "So am I."


	11. I'll Be Your Home

**I'll Be Your Home**

Monica angrily swings the door open to apartment 19, enters with heavy, aggravated footsteps, and slams it shut behind her. Her abrupt appearance in his apartment startles Chandler as he jumps up from his seat on the couch and spins around. Monica begins to walk through the kitchen and into the living room. "Ugh! That woman is driving me crazy!" She storms over to where Chandler is standing, letting frustrated grunts escape from her lips with each step. She snatches the beer out of his hand and drains it of its last drop. She hands the empty bottle back and plops herself down on the couch.

Chandler walks into the kitchen, places the empty bottle in the sink, opens the refrigerator and pulls out another beer. He returns to the couch and sits down next to her. "Hi honey. Hard day at the office?"

Monica narrows her eyes into an icy stare, seething angrily as she glares at him, letting him know with just her eyes that she is not in the mood for his jokes. "It's my mother. All she can talk about is Ross and Carol's wedding. Enough already! It's been over a year! Let it go woman! Other people have been married since then!" Monica darts her eyes around the sparsely decorated room, cataloguing every imperfection of his apartment in her mind. Threadbare throw on the back of the couch, scuff marks on the walls, dirty windows, crumbs on the floor, a water mark on the coffee table and an odor coming from the bathroom that informs her exactly how long it has been since he last cleaned in there.

She returns her attention to Chandler and shakes her head. "She must have brought five hundred pictures with her tonight. Every time she got to one of me, she had to mention how I didn't have a date, or how I'm still single now, how that might have been the only wedding she'll go to for one of her children. Then she complains about how I had my hair that night, or how I should have worn a shawl to cover my freckles." Chandler chuckles as a nervous reaction to her anger and she shoots him another furious glare. "It isn't funny! She makes me so mad."

Chandler lets the smile fade from his face and flashes her a sympathetic look. "I know, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh. You just have to try and not let her get to you. Just let that stuff go."

Monica folds her arms and huffs. "Yes. That's great advice. Tell me again how good you are with not letting your parents get to you, Mr. Jokey Jokerson! How is all that letting it go stuff working for you?" She swings her legs up and lays them across chandler's lap, placing her head down on the other end of the couch.

"Okay, maybe you have a point." Chandler twists off the cap of his beer, takes a sip and hands it to Monica.

She sits up to take a quick swig. "I am only twenty-two years old. Why does she try to put all this pressure on me?"

"You woke me up at the crack of dawn for a job interview I had later that afternoon. It might be hereditary."

Monica frowns at him, shakes her head, takes another drink and hands the bottle back to Chandler. "That was different. I was helping you. Getting up early and being prepared is just good sense."

Chandler chuckles again and takes a sip. "Oh. Wait, are you're parents still at your apartment? Did you leave everybody over there?"

Monica shrugs her shoulders and nods. "Yeah, but Ross and Carol are there, they won't notice I'm gone for a little while. No one even heard me when I said I was taking out the trash. I might as well be invisible." She looks over at the images on the television screen to hide the glum expression on her face.

Chandler places the beer behind him on the kitchen counter and looks over at Monica. He studies her face for a moment and he adopts a concerned look. He sometimes forgets that Monica has almost as tenuous a relationship with her parents as he does with his. Something else that has helped them bond over this last year since he moved in. He straightens up and gently places his hand on her leg. "Oh, well then, just hide out here tonight. We can finish watching this movie and have a few beers. You know I won't pressure you to do anything and I don't even think they remember I live in this building."

Monica looks back at him and smirks. "I can't hide in here all night!"

"Why not? It's easy. I've been hiding in here from my parents for over a year now." Chandler lifts Monica's feet and removes her shoes one at a time. He places them on the floor and begins to rub her feet. He squeezes gently and applies pressure to her arches with his thumbs. He goes back-and-forth between each one, twisting then lightly and carefully bending her toes.

Monica closes her eyes and allows herself to relax for a moment, enjoying the feeling of having her feet massaged. "Because silly, they are bound to notice I'm not there anymore at some point. Right?" She reaches her hand out and Chandler instinctively passes her the beer so she can take another drink.

"Maybe. At least you'll know it's safe here. You can take naps, eat on the couch, share a beer, and get foot rubs. I've got an amazing collection of take-out menus. It's a veritable paradise."

Monica raises an eyebrow skeptically and hands the beer back to him. She allows a light moan to escape her lips as Chandler finds a spot on her foot that she is most receptive to having worked on. "Mmmm. But it is such a smelly and dirty paradise."

Chandler takes a swig and laughs as he puts the bottle back down on the floor. "Not for long, because if you were hiding out here in the Bing relocation program, I'm pretty sure I would wake up tomorrow morning to an entirely different apartment. Flowers and fruit everywhere."

Monica shakes her head and smiles. "I think that is the only reason why you are offering me your place to hide out in. For the free labor."

Chandler gestures emphatically towards her feet. "What do you call this?"

Monica nestles her head back down into the couch. "That's a pleasure. My feet are adorable." Chandler sniffs at one and makes a mock face of disgust. Monica kicks him playfully. "Stop it! My feet smell amazing."

Chandler smiles and continues working on her feet. "What's the problem anyway? You always talk about wanting a boyfriend. Why does it bother you when your mom talks about it?"

"Because when I talk about it, I don't make myself feel like a failure."

Chandler looks over at her incredulously. "Yes you do."

Monica rolls her eyes. "Okay, but I at least have you there to cheer me up when I do."

"Oh. So it's my fault? Hey, you're the one who had a dinner party and didn't invite me over." Chandler drops her feet in his lap, folds his arms and pouts.

Monica laughs and wiggles her toes at Chandler, trying to signal for him to resume the massage, but he just takes another sip of beer and stares at the television. She pulls herself up a bit and tries to get his attention. "Wait? Does that really bother you? I mean, it was very last minute. I guess it was a family thing. I just didn't think you would want to spend the night with my parents."

"Right. Family. I sometimes forget that I'm not anybody's family."

Monica starts to nudge him in his side with her toes. "Chandler. Don't try to make me feel bad."

"No, I get it. I'm just the neighbor."

She tilts her head sympathetically. "You know you are not just my neighbor. You're my friend."

Chandler turns to face her and Monica can see that there is an authentic wounded look in his eyes. "I know, but I'm not a," he makes air quotes with his fingers, "come over to dinner with me and my family kind of friend." He drops his hands down to his lap again and places the beer back on the floor.

"I'm sorry Chandler. I guess I figured that how I feel about my parents was how you felt and maybe I thought I was sparing you a long night."

"It's fine. I'm really not that upset. I got to watch Point Break and drink a few beers and later on you'll bring me leftovers. What do I need human contact for when I have Johnny Utah?" He offers her a weak, insincere smile as he tries to reassure her that he is fine.

Monica sits up, pulls her feet under her and leans in towards Chandler, placing her hand on his cheek. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. You are my best friend and I would have loved for you to be there. From now on, you have an open invitation to every dinner at my place. I will come and get you and when my mom and dad are there you can make those sarcastic eyes at me behind their back when they say something ridiculous to make me laugh."

The tension leaves Chandler's face and he looks her in the eyes with a half-smile. "Thanks. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I was just joking around. And look, anytime you need to hide away from everyone you can sneak over here and we can watch terrible movies together until the coast is clear."

Monica looks down and smiles. "Sounds like a deal. Why don't you come over right now for dessert? I have plenty." She gets up from the couch, slips her shoes back on and reaches her hand towards him. "C'mon Joey Idaho."

Chandler shakes his head. "It's Johnny Utah."

"Whatever. Look, after they all leave, I'll come back over and we can watch this movie tonight. Keanu has a cute butt, I'll call him whatever state he wants."

Chandler laughs and takes her hand as she pulls him up from the couch. "Okay, that sounds good." As they walk through his apartment towards the front door, Chandler pulls Monica back before she can reach the handle. "Wait!"

She turns around, startled by his sudden excitement. "What?"

Chandler reaches over to the refrigerator door and pulls a photograph out from underneath an oversized, novelty magnet in the shape of the state of Florida. "Look. Gandalf sent this to me."

He hands it to her and Monica studies it for a moment. She can tell it is from Ross' wedding by the dress she is wearing. It is a picture of the two of them sitting at a table, talking. Monica has her hand up as if she was about to cover her mouth and laugh at something he was saying. Both of them smiling and looking genuinely happy. It appears to her that neither one of them knew the photo was being taken. She turns her eyes up to him with a puzzled look of her face.

"See? Your mother is wrong. You looked beautiful at his wedding. I wouldn't have changed a thing about how you looked."

"Really?" Monica looks back down at the photo and smiles.

"Really. Look at you. You're positively radiant. And I think your freckles are cute." Chandler smiles proudly but then looks down at his feet.

Monica, still staring at the photo, can feel her eyes begin to water but is able to exert enough self-control to hold back the tears. She goes to hand the picture back to him. "Here."

Chandler pushes her hand back down gently. "No, you keep it. You will take much better care of it than me. And now, anytime your mom makes you feel bad about how you looked that day, you can just take this out and remember how beautiful you are."

Monica slides the photo into her back pocket as she smiles up at him. "Thanks. Now come on, I have a tres leches cake I made waiting to get eaten."

Chandler stops dead in his track. "A Tray-blay what now?"

"Tres leches. It means three milks."

Chandler looks back at the television in his living room that is still playing the movie. "Maybe I'll just stay here and finish Point Break."

Monica lets out a hearty laugh and tugs him towards the door roughly. "Oh no, you can't back out now. Not after that sob story you laid out on me. You know, I came over here for you to cheer me up, not the other way around."

Chandler flashes her a wide smile. "Well, are you still thinking about your mom giving you a hard time?"

Monica offers up a reluctant "No."

"See, taking care of me makes you feel better."

Monica lets out a laugh as she exhales. "You know what, I think we do a pretty good job of taking care of each other."


	12. How Soon is Now?

**How Soon Is Now?**

Monica steps out of her apartment and into the hallway. She checks the contents of her clutch bag one more time and then takes another look at herself before she pulls out her key and locks the door. She runs her hands down the length of her dress, smoothing it under her palms. The dark blue of the fabric swirls down her body, spiraling with hints of silver and white at the bottom. She shifts her feet and looks at her shoes, confident she made the right decision as she opted for a more comfortable pair of black kitten heels rather than the longer pair of pumps she had originally picked out. She reaches one hand up to brush some hair away from her face and lets out one last, long exhale to calm her nerves.

Behind her, she could hear Chandler open his own door as he joins her in the hallway. She turns around to greet him and allows a slightly impressed expression to wash over her face. He was wearing a smart looking tan suit with a powder blue dress shirt and a dark blue tie; the color an exact match for her dress. His hair was slightly rumpled, but it looked good on him. Almost as if it were purposely styled that way. It was summer, so the color was lighter than normal, which gave a boyish quality to his features that clashed with the sophistication of his outfit.

"You look very handsome tonight. I guess you are all ready for your date?"

Chandler slides one of his feet forward and shifts his weight from one leg to the other, appearing slightly apprehensive at the idea of going out on a date. "I think so. The reservation is in about an hour, but I thought I should head over now and get there early. I offered to pick her up at her place, but she insisted that we meet there instead."

Monica nods. "Oh yeah. You never meet a guy for the first time at your apartment. What if he turns out to be a creep or something? You do not want them to know where you live."

Chandler looks up, slightly confused by her words. "Really? Is that a rule?"

"Yes. If you don't know him that well you don't want him to just show up unannounced. You men have no idea. Women always have to think about stuff like that."

They stand there quietly for a moment. Chandler looks up at her and offers a smile. "You look really pretty. I guess you're meeting your date at a restaurant too?"

She nods. "Of course. I'm also having only one glass of wine. I'll bet your date does the same. Because some men cannot be trusted. Who is she again?"

Chandler shakes his head. "Jennifer. She works at the coffee shop by my building. We've been kind of flirting for a few months and I finally got the nerve up to ask her out."

Monica screws up her face, looking slightly annoyed at his admission. "You hit on her at her place of work?"

Chandler eyes went wide. "I wouldn't say I hit on her. I made conversation. Is that another no-no?"

Monica sighs as she puts her hands down, holding her bag in front of her dress. "Women don't want to have to fight off unwanted advances from men every time they go to work. You shouldn't do that."

"Oh. Well, she didn't seem to mind."

Monica folds her arms and taps her foot. "Hmm. Okay. You still want to be careful about that though."

Chandler nods obediently. "What about you? Where'd you meet this guy? Don't tell me work!"

"I didn't meet him. Not yet." Monica looks down; an embarrassed sigh escapes her lips. "My mother set me up. It's a blind date." She instantly straightens up and jabs a discerning finger in his direction. "Don't you dare make a joke!"

Chandler puts his hands up in surrender and gestures for her to calm down. "Okay, okay. I won't. Well, you look great."

"You said that already, but thanks." Monica slips her key into her bag and snaps it shut. "Who knows. Maybe I'll get lucky this time."

Chandler wiggles his eyebrows. "I hope we both get lucky."

Monica shakes her head and smirks. "Not like that you pig. I mean, maybe this guy will turn out to be pretty decent. I deserve a win. We both do, don't you think?"

"A win is 'pretty decent'? Way to aim high there." Chandler plays with his keys, swinging them around on his finger.

Monica glares at him but can't help herself and lets a slight smile spread across her lips. "It would be nice if maybe one of these guys turned out to be boyfriend material. I'm really getting sick of the non-stop string of lousy first dates."

Chandler nods, but then his eyes open wide with discovery. "Oh man, I'm someone's lousy first date, aren't I?"

Monica just laughs. "No, just be yourself. Well, maybe not totally yourself. You don't want this girl joining a convent!"

Chandler laughs sarcastically. "Okay. Want to walk down together?"

Monica shrugs her shoulders. "Sure, that sounds good."

Monica approaches the steps gingerly and Chandler offers her his arm for support and she wraps hers through the crook of his elbow and they descend the stairs side-by-side. Monica, without realizing it, squeezes his arm a bit whenever they reach a landing and turn to walk down each new set of stairs.

They finally reach the lobby, and as they walk past the mailboxes, they don't notice that their arms are still entwined. An older woman, heavyset, who looks to be in her sixties enters the building from the street and makes eye contact with Monica.

Monica smiles at her as they get closer. "Hello Mrs. Chatracus."

"Hello dear. My, don't you kids make for a nice looking couple."

Monica and Chandler laugh and look down, finally noticing they are still linked up, arm-in-arm. They release their hold on each other and turn to protest but Mrs. Chatracus had already reached the first set of stairs and disappeared quickly around the corner. They look at each other and shake their heads in disbelief.

As they step out onto the sidewalk, Chandler moves to the curbside to hail a taxi. "You want to share a cab? I'm going uptown."

Monica shakes her head and points in the opposite direction with her thumb. "Downtown. But I was going to walk anyway. It's only a few blocks."

Chandler nods and puts his hand up and out, signaling for a car to stop. "Okay, well then, have a good first date!"

She smiles and nods, "You too." She looks back at Chandler one more time; his attention already focused on the street in front of him. She then turns around and begins to walk away.

* * *

Chandler steps into the lobby of his building and is surprised to see Monica at the other end near the base of the stairwell, just about to start her ascent to their floor. "Mon?"

She turns to face him; he can already see an agitated expression on her face. "Hey." She stops to wait for him and they share a dispirited look. He offers his arm for her once more, and she flashes him a lopsided smile as she takes it.

"I take it, mom's taste wasn't so great?" He offers up in a light-hearted tone.

Monica lets out a frustrated sigh. "I don't want to talk about it."

Chandler nods as he presses his lips together. "Okay."

Against his body he can feel the tension from her small frame rising. "He spent the first hour talking about himself and his job, never once asking me anything; not about my work, or what I like. I swear, I don't even think he knew my name was Monica. Do you know he tried to order for me! Ugh! I do not want to talk about it!"

"Okay."

Her voice getting louder and the pitch higher as she becomes more aggravated. "And then, he spends the next half-hour trying to convince me that we should go to his place. But I don't want to talk about it."

Chandler rolls his eyes. "Okay."

Her grip becomes so tight on his arm that it feels as though she might snap it off. "I mean, he stared at my chest more than at my face! He said, and I quote, 'I can predict the weather, and I think you're about to get six inches tonight!"

"I thought you didn't want to talk about it."

"I don't! I just," she lets out a frustrated grunt and then looks at Chandler. "You know what I mean?"

"Mon. I'm not even sure if you know what you mean."

Monica shoots him a glare as they reach their floor. They separate and walk towards their own apartment, turning around to face each other while they lean against their door. "How about you? How did your date go?"

"I thought it was going well. I was making jokes. She was laughing. We had a glass of wine. Ordered dinner. Then this guy came over to the table out of nowhere and started talking to her. It turns out it was her ex-boyfriend. They broke up last week! They talked, she cried, and then they made up and decided to get back together just as dinner was being served. Then they both looked at me and asked me if I could leave and give them some privacy."

Monica lifts her hand up to cover her mouth. "Noooooo!"

Chandler raises his eyebrows as his eyes open wide and nods emphatically, "Oh yes. He even started eating my steak when he sat down!"

Monica, against her better judgment, lets out one loud laugh but quickly tries to stifle herself with both hands.

"I hope you like medium rare Charlie! Anyway, I guess I'm not getting coffee at that place anymore."

"What did you do after that?"

Chandler stiffens up, expressing mock pride. "I did what any self-respecting man would do. I bid them goodnight, went to the bar next door, watched the rest of the Knicks game and drank a few beers."

Monica looks down and shakes her head. "We are some pair, huh?"

Chandler looks down as well, shrugs his shoulders and nods. "I guess so."

"You think this is ever going to work out for us? Maybe we should have listened to Mrs. Chatracus and just went to dinner with each other. We would have looked the part anyway. At least your tie matches my dress."

Chandler laughs. "Maybe. Although I might have stared at your chest too. You do look good. And I already know where you live."

Monica narrows her eyes at him and scoffs. "Pigs. I'm surrounded by pigs." She begins to fish around in her bag for her keys. "Did you eat yet? Do you want to come over? I have some food in the fridge I could heat up. Maybe there's a movie on."

Chandler nods. "Yeah, I could eat. Let me go change. Be over in, say, ten minutes?"

"Sounds good. I'll see you in a few." They both turn and begin to unlock their doors, each looking over their shoulder to make eye contact and share one more reassuring smile before disappearing into their respective apartments.


	13. Accidents Will Happen

**Accidents Will Happen**

The door to apartment twenty swings open briskly as Joey bounces into the room. Before even waiting to see who was there, he blurts out, "Hey guys! Guess what?" in an excited tone.

The three occupants in the apartment each look up at him as he slides into the kitchen. Chandler and Ross both place the section of newspaper they are holding down onto their laps. Monica, sips at her cup of coffee and leans up against the counter. She tugs mindlessly on the sash of her robe and smirks into her mug. She looks at both Chandler and Ross and shares an amused smile with them. "What's up Joe?"

"Well, it seems being Dr. Jake Ramoray comes with some perks. I was able to get us on the guestlist of this very exclusive club for tonight. We even get two free drinks each! What do you say? Who wants to rub elbows with a TV star?" Joey sticks his elbow out and begins to rub his hand over it. "Ooo, this elbow feels really famous."

Both Ross and Chandler start to grumble and lift their newspapers back up to cover their faces. Monica works hard to contain a smile. She then flashes him a discerning look. "Joe, that's not really our scene."

"I know, but check it out. It's at The Tunnel. Big celebrities go there. Who knows who we will see."

Suddenly an almost inhuman squeal comes from Rachel's bedroom. "The Tunnel!" She rushes out into the living room. "Do you know how many fashion icons go there? Mon! We have to go! Oh my, there could be male models there."

Monica rolls her eyes. "Rach, I have an interview tomorrow morning. I need to find a job. I can't go out clubbing like some twenty-two year old."

"We don't have to stay too late. Your interview isn't until ten anyway! This could be unbelievable! Come on Monica. Think of all the cute boys we could meet." Rachel shoot a sideways glance at Ross, but he doesn't notice. His head still buried in his paper. Monica observes this and wonders if Rachel's overexuberance is just to get under Ross's skin, knowing that Rachel is still upset about the everything that happened between her and Ross.

Chandler, without lifting his eyes from his newspaper, speaks in an even tone. "Yeah Mon, maybe Jean Claude will be there with Drew." He then chuckles and looks around for the others to join him in his joke, but they each just grimace at him uncomfortably as Monica approaches him and pulls her hand back, pretending she is going to slap him, but instead just glares at him.

Rachel shakes her head. "Don't listen to him, Mon. We never do anything like this. Come on. One night. What do you say?" She holds her hands up as if pleading with her roommate.

Monica looks around and makes eye contact with Chandler who just raises his eyebrows suspiciously at her. She eventually throws her hands up. "Fine. I'll go with you."

Ross, tries to cover his face with his paper to avoid anyone seeing him looking apprehensive at the idea of letting the woman he loves spend the night at a club. The thought of other men leering at her and leaving her open to meeting some guy already eating away at him. He was still trying to figure out a way to smooth things over from the dreaded "list" incident and he knew her dancing all night with some Paolo-esque lothario was not the way to do it. "You know what, Chandler and I will go. Right?" He looks over at Chandler trying to nonverbally express everything he had just been thinking.

Chandler groans, oblivious to Ross's motivations. He looks up with dread in his eyes, grumbling to himself and annoyed that Ross is volunteering them to go somewhere he knew they did not want to go. "No thank you."

"Come on Chandler. Maybe we will meet some hot ladies." Ross undulates his head slightly and wiggles his eyebrows.

"If you promise never to do this again." Chandler mimics Ross' odd head move making Monica stifle a laugh. "Then, sure, I'll go. But I don't want to stay too late. I work in the morning."

Monica nods. "Me too. Chandler, we can make sure we go home early. I can't stay out all night."

Chandler give her a half smile and looks over toward Joey. "Sounds like we are all going to go tonight."

Joey smiles and give a thumbs up but then a serious look washes over his face. "That's great guys, but actually, I can't make it tonight. I have to be at the studio really early in the morning for some scenes they just added to some upcoming episodes. But, I gave them all your names so you should be good to go."

"Wait, you're not coming?" Monica looks Joey over suspiciously.

"No, but you guys are going to have fun. Ooo! Just don't forget, you have to stay until midnight because they do this thing and you won't want to miss it. Okay. So, remember, don't come home before midnight."

Monica, Ross and Chandler all share a bemused look, but before they can say anything, Joey slips back out of the apartment and into the hallway.

Once the four of them make it through the labyrinth of ID checks, security guards and fellow club goers, Monica, Rachel, Chandler and Ross finally get inside the main room of The Tunnel. Rachel spins around slowly, taking in as much of the trendy nightclub's atmosphere as she can. "I can't believe Joey got us into this place and he couldn't come because of an early shoot tomorrow on Days. He should at least have come out for a little while."

Monica peeks around her roommate, looking at the dance floor. "Looks a little wild. It's too bad Phoebe couldn't come."

Rachel grabs Monica by the hand and pulls her further into the club. "Let's look around!"

Monica looks back over her shoulder towards Chandler and Ross and shouts at them as Rachel drags her away. "I guess we're looking around!" The two men simply shake their heads and point at their ears in response, gesturing that they cannot hear her over the loud, thumping beat of the music.

Ross, with a glum expression, watches them disappear into the crowd; Chandler taps him on the shoulder and points to a bar in the corner. Ross shrugs his shoulders and follows him over there. Chandler looks up and down the bar until he finally makes eye contact with one of the servers and he nods his head to try and get him to come over but the bartender ignores them and continues serving other customers.

Ross, starting to get agitated, leans over to investigate. "Look, he's only serving the hot ladies." His words sound as if they are dripping with venom. "I am not putting up with that. Watch the master." Ross takes a twenty-dollar bill out of his pocket and starts to wave it around as he hangs over the bar. The more the bartenders ignore him, the harder he waves the bill around, until he finally starts to violently shake his arm forcing the money to slip from his fingers and fall to the floor behind the bar.

Another server walks over and Ross gives Chandler a smug nod. "See, now they'll serve us." He turns his attention back to the bartender and speaks with unabashed confidence. "Hello my good man, I would like your finest appletini and my friend here will have a beer." The bartender, never turning to look at Ross, bends down, picks up the twenty, stuffs it in his pocket, and walks away. Before Ross can protest, the bartender is already taking the order of yet another group of women.

Chandler rolls his eyes as the sarcasm drips from his tongue. "Wow, that was some lesson. Does it also work with ones or does it have to be a twenty every time? Because I don't know if I could afford doing it the way you do." He then pats Ross on the arm. "Face it my man, we are not in our natural environment. Look at these guys. Those two over there don't even have necks. How do you work out so much that your neck disappears?"

Ross shakes his head. "I know, and look at that guy. Leather pants? Pfft. As if!"

Chandler shoots a discerning look at his friend and then turns around sharply as he feels a slight hand on his shoulder. Monica leans into him and speaks loudly into his ear. "I can't hear anything in here!"

Chandler sticks his finger in his ear and shakes it in an exaggerated manor. "Well, thanks to you, I don't think I'll hear anything out of this ear again for a long time."

Monica purses her lips and makes a face as she leans past him towards the bar. A server immediately appears and she give him her drink order. Chandler turns around sharply, "No! Mon! Don't let him get away!"

"I'm sorry. I didn't think he was your type, but I'll put in a good word if you want when he comes back." Monica smugly laughs at her own joke.

Chandler just shakes his head quickly. "No! We can't get him to get us our drinks. He is only serving hot girls. I've been trying to order something for forty-minutes. Please order me and Ross a couple of beers when he comes back."

Monica laughs again and runs her shoulders up mocking a bashful reaction. "I'm a hot girl!"

Once their drinks are finally served, Monica takes hers and pats Chandler on the shoulder again. "I'm going to find Rachel! I'll see you later!" Chandler's eyes follow her as she walks around the floor in a large circle until she darts onto the dancefloor, joining Rachel and what looks like two men who Chandler imagines just stepped off of a magazine ad for Calvin Klein underwear.

Ross turns to look over at where Rachel is and shakes his head. "Look man, I think I am going to go. I can't watch Rachel flirt and dance with other men all night. Want to catch a cab with me?"

Chandler looks back out at the dancefloor, finding Monica sipping her drink while one of the two men lean in to talk to her. "You know what. I might stick around a little while and make sure the girls are okay. You know. Make sure they get home safe."

Ross nods and gives Chandler a pat on his shoulder as he leaves. Chandler turns around and positions himself on a stool by the bar and sips his beer. Every now and then turning around to make sure he can still see Monica and Rachel.

Monica, who has been standing on the dancefloor sipping at her drink slowly, she can only smile and nod at the man trying to talk to her, and she is trying to hide how uncomfortable she feels with how close he is to her. She wonders if some of that uneasiness is because she cannot understand a word he is saying over the loud, blaring music. She looks him over again, he does looks nice, but there seems to be something lacking because she doesn't feel any kind of spark. She decides to keep trying to make an effort just in case something might click with her, but it seems to be a lost cause.

He says something else to her unintelligibly and she decides to take an opportunity to look over at Rachel and check on her. Monica notices that she seems to be humoring her new friends as well since she is doing that thing where she laughs and slaps him playfully on the chest every time he stops talking. Monica starts to wonder, is this what dating is going to be like? Just two people never hearing each other on a crowded dancefloor?

She turns her eyes upward and sees Chandler sitting at the bar, looking fairly dejected. She notices he is alone. She smiles at the man talking to her, who might be Chip, or Jim or Biff. She isn't really quite sure what his name is. She puts a finger up gesturing for him to give her a minute and steps away, leaving the dancefloor and walking over to the bar.

She approaches Chandler, who has his back to her, and she gently presses her palm onto his shoulder. "Hey, why are you all alone?"

Chandler, mildly surprised at her presence, turns to face her. "Ross left. Turns out watching Rachel flirt with other guys is not as much fun for him as he thought it would be this morning. He's still really hung up on her."

Monica makes a sympathetic face and nods. "I know. Poor guy. What about you? Why not get out there and mix it up?"

Chandler laughs. "Oh no. The last time I tried to mix it up, I ended up trapped in a public bathroom wearing Susie Moss' underwear. No thanks."

Monica can't help herself and laughs. "Well, what are the chances that happens again?"

Chandler scoffs. "With my luck?"

Monica slides her hand onto his arm and strokes it gently. "Okay, well, pull me up a stool and I'll sit with you."

Chandler looks back over to the dancefloor, puzzled. "What about hunky man number two over there?"

Monica tightens her lips together and looks down shaking her head. "I don't know. I'm not really in a place to date. I should get a job first. Plus, even though he is kind of cute, I can't hear a word he is saying."

Chandler steps off the stool and offers it to her, flashing a half-smile. "Well, at least Rachel looks like she's having fun."

Monica looks back at her with a skeptical look on her face. "Maybe, I think she is faking it too."

Chandler, looking confused, darts his eyes between Rachel out on the dancefloor and then back to Monica. "How can you tell?"

"I know her fake laugh." Monica positions herself on the stool and shifts so she is facing outward, able to look at Chandler as they speak but also making sure she can keep an eye on Rachel.

Chandler, looks at her with an exaggerated shocked expression. "Faking an orgasm is one thing, but now you are telling me that women can fake laugh too? Now I really am depressed."

Monica bumps him in the chest with her shoulder. 'Well, we can keep an eye on her from here and then we can all go home together." She looks at her watch. "Hey. It's after midnight. Where is this thing Joey was talking about?"

Chandler looks around the club. "I don't know, maybe we missed it. He was acting kind of strange, right?"

Monica nods. "We should talk to him about it tomorrow."

Chandler smiles down at her again. "You sure you don't want to go back to your guy over there?"

Monica nods confidently. "Yeah. I don't know. I guess I am looking for something a little more meaningful. This is not how I think I meet Mr. Right, and I think I am over having one-night stands. Nothing good ever comes from impulsive sex. Even if it is great sex."

Chandler looks off and tilts his head contemplatively. "I can think of something good that comes from great sex."

Monica slaps him on the arm. "Come on Chandler. Don't you want to find something with a little more substance?"

"More, less. I'm not exactly in a position to be too choosy."

Monica shakes her head. "Well, thanks for staying and waiting for us. You know, that's the kind of stuff women who are looking for a boyfriend would appreciate. You do more stuff like this and less stuff like making stupid lists and maybe you can start to be choosy."

"Yeah, I don't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment yet Mon."

Monica laughs and nods in agreement as she wraps her arm around Chandler's. "Let's give her fifteen more minutes."

"Okay, but you have to drag her out of here. I'm also not very good at confrontations either."

She looks up at him and shakes her head as she laughs. "You're hopeless."

Chandler looks down at her and smiles. "Yeah, but I have money to pay for a cab. So, you're stuck with me."

She laughs and reluctantly nods. "That's true. We are stuck with each other." She squeezes his arm one more time and leans her head against him, watching Rachel out in the chaos of the club's dancefloor, happy to be away from that and instead sharing a small, comfortable moment with her friend.


	14. You Don't Know What Love Is

**You Don't Know What Love Is**

"_I can't believe my brother is getting married. Again!" _

Monica plops down on the end of her bed and lays back, placing her hands on her stomach. She allows a long and exaggerated exhale to escape from her lips as she looks up towards the ceiling. She is overcome with satisfaction and indulges in feeling slightly smug with the knowledge that she played a part in her brother's whirlwind relationship with Emily Waltham. A slow smile spread across her lips. These last few weeks, her happiness has been heavily invested in Ross and the love he has found with his English fiancé, and now that it is about to reach its culmination, she feels caught up in the joy of their impending nuptials. She can't exactly pinpoint what it is about their courtship that has her so enraptured, yet, against her own instincts, she hasn't tried to overthink it either. Instead, she focuses on how excited she is to be a part of their wedding. Even if it may seem a little fast to some people, for Monica, it is steeped in fairytale romance.

Even though the trip is still days away, she has already pulled out her suitcase to start packing for the trip to London, or in her case, to do some pre-packing. For Monica, packing is done in stages. First, she does what she call a dry run, where she tries to see exactly how many seasonally appropriate clothes she can fit in her bag. It doesn't matter if the clothes that she puts into her suitcase in this stage will never make the final cut. This is just a prototype to give her some raw numbers to work with when she is ready to pick out her outfits for the trip.

Her next step is to pick out twice as many outfits than she will need. Two formal dresses, double the socks and t-shirts, extra underpants, back-up toiletries, and more sweaters than she would ever need. Once that step is complete, she then goes through each article of clothing she pulled out and narrows them down until she has her perfectly packed bag.

For Monica, there are many factors to consider when packing for a trip like this. Even as she lies on her bed, she is already formulating a rough list of what she will need to bring. _"Something formal for the rehearsal dinner, something casual for the afternoons, comfy clothes for the evenings back at the hotel and something smart looking for when I first meet Emily's family. Some light sweaters and cardigans just in case the plane or one of the halls are too cold. Then there's the shoes. Don't get me started on shoes." _She breathes a sigh of relief as she reminds herself that at least the bridesmaid dress will already be in London awaiting her arrival. One less this to worry about.

"_Always a bridesmaid…" _She lets that cliched thought trail off before she can complete it. She shakes her head, knowing this is not the time to go down that road. Instead, she tries to focus on her brother and his happiness. She loves the idea of Ross getting married in another country. She finds everything about it magical. How they met, Ross surprising her at the airport to declare his love, both of them racing across the ocean, hoping to see the other one more time and confess their feelings. It practically made Monica swoon just thinking about it. It definitely made her boastful as she thought about the her exchange with Chandler the other day when he tried to convince Ross that it was all over between he and Emily. Monica though, did not lose faith. She knew then that he was wrong and she was right, and that her brother and Emily would end up together. _"In your face Chandler!"_ She allows a smile to cross her lips as she thinks about rubbing it in her friend's face again later on.

She shakes her head when she thinks about Chandler. He thought it was a terrible idea for her to push Ross towards this, that she was only setting her brother up for heartache and failure. Even later on, when everything seemed to be working out for Ross and Emily, his ears pricked up when they announced they were getting married. _"Such a cynic!" _She would feel bad for her friend's lack of faith in romance and love if she weren't so giddy basking in the glow of her triumph over him.

Before she gets too caught up in her own smug satisfaction, she reminds herself again. _"This isn't about you, Monica. This is about Ross."_ Unfortunately, it is very hard not to think about her part in everything. How she pushed him to accept his feelings for Emily, and although she didn't think it would lead to marriage this fast, stranger things have happened, especially when it comes to her brother and his love life. This feels right to her though, despite the speed in which everything was occurring, she has not seen Ross this happy in a long time. He truly loves Emily and he seems to be completely over Rachel for the first time since their final break-up almost a year ago. She shudders a bit at the memory of her own experience at the beach last year, something she has tried to bury deep into the recesses of her subconscious, yet still finds its way to the surface to mock her. _"Has it been a year already?"_

She sits up looking around the room, trying to find the motivation to start packing, but there is this nagging feeling of malaise washing over her that she can not define. She finds it odd to hit her now, because she loves to pack, and normally a task like that would keep her mind off of anything that may be weighing on her. Going through her routine, giving herself checks for everything she accomplishes, it never fails to perk her up. Yet, her motivation, which used to seem limitless, is waning.

She tries to reclaim her exuberance by remembering how excited she is to go to another country, even if just for a few days. The sights, the new food, it all seems so incredible. Walking around London seems like it will be incredible fun. Although, she is looking forward to the wedding most of all, even if it is her brother's second marriage and she hasn't even been engaged yet. How could she be engaged when she doesn't even have a boyfriend. And that's when it hits her. Why she feels this odd, nagging sense of trepidation. Everything that is happening is just reminding her that she is alone.

She was so sure by now, at her age, she would have all of this sorted out. Yet, as she went through the list of everything she thought she would already have by now, there was nothing there. Nothing to give herself a check for. _"Baby? Nope. Husband? UH-uh. Engaged? Not even close. Boyfriend? Pfft. Date? When was the last time I was even on a date?" _

She collapses back on the bed. Confounded that it has been a year since her last real relationship. Meanwhile, her brother is moving on to wife number two and already has a son. It doesn't seem fair.

She wondered what was wrong with her? Is she too picky? Too obsessive? Too controlling? Too organized? Is her need to have everything in its perfect place why she is still single. Maybe she is trying to hard to find that perfect man who wants what she wants. She wonders though; Is this why she's alone?

She lays over on her side and runs her hand along the empty part of the bed as if caressing a phantom. There is this aching inside her to have someone there, right now. Someone she could talk to about everything that is bothering her right now. Someone who knows what to say when she is feeling like this. Someone who accepts her for who she is. Someone who knows her better than anyone else.

It isn't that she needs a boyfriend to feel complete. She prides herself on being a strong and independent woman. She has been for years, making her way in Manhattan, on her own terms, in a field that is rife obstacle for women. She knows who she is, and she has earned everything she has achieved. Yet, she yearns for that intimate companionship that seems to come so easy for others but is so elusive for her. She wants that person in her life that she gets to come home to everyday, someone she can love, someone who will love her. Someone who wants to build a life with her.

She rolls back over again and wonders if maybe she made a mistake breaking it off with Pete. Or worse, maybe she made a mistake breaking it off with Richard. She tries hard not to think of him, but in moments like these, she often asks herself if she could have lived with him and his attitude about having more children. Maybe, once a baby was born, he would have fallen in love with their child and forgotten all about his reservations. Maybe, in time, she could have learned to live without a baby. Travel the world, move to France.

She shakes her head defiantly. Even now, the answer is still no to a life without a family of her own. She wants children. She doesn't care how trite it may sound. How it may undermine her nineties sensibilities. How it plays on a stereotype about women and their role in society. She doesn't care. Having a baby, raising a child, giving all of the love she has inside her unconditionally. That's what she wants. And she needs the man that she loves to want that just as badly as she does.

Monica stands up and runs her hands through her hair. _"I shouldn't be thinking like this. I should be thinking about Ross."_ She paces the length of the room a few times, but sets herself back down on the bed. _"I can't keep going on like this. I don't know how much longer I can survive being so alone. Maybe after I get back from London, I'll circle back to this. I'll hold off thinking about boyfriends and exes until I get home, and, if I still feel like this, maybe I should call Pete or someone else and see where they're at. Maybe things have changed." _She crinkles her nose at the odorous thought of crawling back to some ex in the hopes that maybe it could work this time. She shakes her head. _"Why is it so hard? I'm attractive, I'm caring, I'm not too needy. I just want someone who I can fall in love with who will want to take care of me as much as I want to take care of him. Someone who gives me all of themselves and I give them all of myself. Just to have that strong connection. That unbreakable bond. Someone who looks nice and isn't bad in bed would be good too. Is that too much to ask for?"_

She stands up one last time and balls up her fists. _"That's enough Geller." _She bounces her suitcase onto her bed and begins to pull clothes out of her dresser drawers. She piles some pairs of pants on the edge of her bed and then walks over towards the closet and pulls out a red spaghetti strapped, silk printed mini dress. She makes a face as she looks at it, contemplating if she should bring. She gets abruptly pulled away from her thoughts on her wardrobe when she hears the front door to her apartment swing open.

"Rach?"

"No. It's me."

Upon hearing Chandler's voice, Monica walks out of her bedroom with the dress still in her hand.

"Hey, that looks nice."

She gives him a smile as a thank you and lays it over the back of the couch as she approaches him. "I don't know. It might show off too many freckles."

Chandler just shrugs his shoulders. "I like your freckles."

Monica looks down, blushing slightly and smiles again. "What's up?"

"I figured you already started packing and could use something to eat." He places a bag down on the kitchen table and starts to pull out several small and large white Chinese food containers. "Joe should be over in a few minutes. He is just taking care of the duck. That bird had a rough couple of days."

Monica makes a face. "Ugh. I don't even want to think about it." She then walks into the kitchen, reaches into the cabinets and pulls out some plates. "Thanks. What did you get?"

"A bunch of stuff, but this one," he holds a container out towards her, "is yours. Don't let Joey hit that first."

She opens the container and looks inside, breathing in the scent of the food as a broad smile appears on her face. "Hey! You remembered my new favorite."

Chandler starts dishing out some food onto his plate and looks up at her, flashing a half smile as he nods, and then returns his focus to the containers of food spread out across the table. Monica smiles at him for a moment while he isn't looking and places the container down on the table next to her plate. Her worried mind already beginning to relax. She sits down next to him and bumps his arm with her shoulder, sharing another smile.

_"_ Someone who always thinks about me when he buys food: check. _Best friend who can somehow always make me feel better without even trying: check." _


	15. Hey Jealousy

**Hey Jealousy**

As she entered her building and began the climb up the stairs to her floor, Monica couldn't help but feel some small amount of relief. Even the normal aches and pains from a night working in the kitchen couldn't dampen her spirits. She was feeling too good and she was certain that she finally made some progress at Alessandro's, thanks to Joey's performance tonight as "Dragon". It seems that the staff at the restaurant might actually be starting to respect her, or at the very least, fear her. Sure, tonight may have cost her a chef's coat, since she was convinced that the stain from the marinara sauce would never come out, but it was worth it if it meant that the constant harassment was at an end. If that was going to be the only casualty tonight, then it was a price she was more than willing to pay, especially if it meant she would finally begin to love her job.

She reached her apartment and noticed a light from inside peeking out underneath the door. It struck her as odd, since it was already 1am and a weekday. Rachel was sure to be asleep by now. Monica shook her head, wondering if despite her best efforts to explain how important it was to cut down on the electric bill, that her roommate forgot to turn off the lights before she went to bed again. For some, unexplained reason, she had an instinct to turn around and face Joey and Chandler's apartment. She noticed the light on under their door as well. An odd coincidence perhaps? She pursed her lips and shrugged her shoulders, deciding this was a mystery she did not need to solve tonight, and walked into her apartment.

To her surprise, Rachel was still dressed and fixing herself a drink of water by the sink. She shook her head, wondering why she was still awake. "Hey Rach? Late night?"

Rachel glanced over at Monica and smiled, looking a little weary due to the late hour. "What? Oh, yeah. I just got in a few minutes ago. How was work?"

"I think Chandler and Joey's plan might have actually worked. You should have seen them after I fired Joey. They were scared of the HBIC!" Monica folded her arms triumphantly.

Rachel tilted her head with a puzzled look on her face. "HBIC?"

"Head bitch in charge!" Monica laughed and reveled in the thought of her new identity as the scary boss. The thought of the people at work jumping to attention when she barked orders at them would be a new and fun endeavor at the restaurant. "What are you doing up so late? Hot date?" She smiled and playfully poked her elbow in Rachel's side.

Rachel laughed. "Well, sort of, I guess. Chandler and I went to a hockey game and then had a drink after."

Monica, stepped back, her eyes widened in shock. "What? You and Chandler?"

"Oh no. It wasn't anything like that! It was nice. We went out as friends. You know, when you get him one-on-one, he is actually a really sweet guy."

Monica, without realizing how quickly she was speaking, or how sharp her tone was, responded with a loud. "I know!" Her eyebrows raised up as if she were insulted that Rachel would think she didn't know what type of person Chandler could be.

Rachel, paused to look at her roommate for a moment, stunned a bit by her reaction, and went back to her glass of water for a sip. "Yeah. I mean, first he screwed up the date that he got for me, and he doesn't know when to shut up, and he can be soooo inappropriate; but then he really made me feel better. He just told me how I was a good catch and how anybody would be lucky to have me. And it was kind of nice to go out with a guy and not be worried about him making a move on me. I got to be myself and not worry about making a good impression. I could just have fun. I guess I never really knew how good of a friend he can be. We were having so much fun, that we decided to go for a drink after. I got to talk about all the Ross stuff, my job, and he was a really good listener. He even asked me for advice about Kathy."

Monica stepped back and leaned up against the counter. There was this feeling overwhelming her, but she could not quite figure out what it was. The hair on the back of her neck felt like it was bristling and suddenly there was this tension building in her neck. It caused her to twist a bit as if stretching out a pulled muscle. She tried to shake off the odd sensation and closed her eyes for a moment.

"So, you and Chandler just hung out. Just the two of you? Best buds and all that?"

Rachel pulled out a chair and sat down at the kitchen table. "Yeah. It was nice."

Monica suddenly felt a dryness in her throat and quickly retrieved a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Chandler and Rachel. Rachel and Chandler. She did not know why this was bothering her so much or why she was having such a hard time picturing them hanging out together. Alone. As friends. Leaning on each other for moral support.

"So, that's it? You guys just went to a hockey game and then had a drink?"

She did not know why she couldn't drop it, or why she needed more details. It was as if her mouth was working independently of her brain.

"Yeah. Oh, and then we went back to his place and sat in his chair and talked a little more. He really helped me feel better about everything, you know? He's a really good guy."

"You both sat in the same chair?" Monica did not know why this was the only thing she held onto from what Rachel just told her. "How?" She had no idea why she asked that.

Rachel, started to become exasperated and looked back up at Monica. "You know how you guys sometimes sit together in the big comfy chair? Like that."

Monica let out a frustrated huff. "Oh well I guess you guys are best friends now, huh? I guess you guys don't need me anymore. Kathy probably won't mind." She had no idea where that came from. She wished she could catch the words in the air and stuff them back in her mouth.

Rachel took pity on her and smiled. "We aren't best friends. Oh Mon, is that what this is about? You know he could never replace you."

Monica began to relax. She allowed a half-smile to form at the corner of her mouth for a moment and then looked down sheepishly. "Yeah, You're right. I will still be his closest friend."

Rachel looked up at Monica; her face a twisted mix of puzzlement and a look as if she were slightly offended. "I meant for me Mon. I meant he couldn't replace you as my best friend."

Monica stammered a bit. She was visibly embarrassed that she misunderstood Rachel. "Oh yeah. That's what I meant too."

Rachel narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out what just happened between them and then threw her hands up in the air in surrender. "I have to go to bed. I'll see you in the morning Mon. Maybe you'll be thinking a little more clearly then."

The two women moved across the apartment together until they split up, each briskly walked into their own rooms and shared one last "good night" with each other before closing their doors.

* * *

After she washed up and changed her clothes, Monica sat down on the edge of her bed before going to sleep. She was bemused and embarrassed at her own behavior Earlier. She couldn't quite put her finger on what was bothering her about Rachel and Chandler becoming close. The two of them giving each other advice, being each other's soundboard, cheering each other up and sharing personal space. How it seemed Chandler was able to make Rachel feel better about her relationship status, her career. Just the two of them enjoying each other's company. Her brain kept snagging onto something Rachel said tonight. _"When you get him one-on-one, he is actually a really sweet guy_"

Monica knew that. She has known Chandler for almost ten years. Six of those right here in this apartment building. They knew each other before anyone else ever showed up. They were the ones who shared advice and made each other feel better. They were the ones who sat close together as they made stupid jokes or wallowed in self-pity. They were the ones who bonded over their shortcomings and cheered each other on. Rachel doesn't need someone like that in her life. She always got exactly what she wanted ever since high school. What did she need moral support for?

And then suddenly, it hit her. She knew what was bothering her. She understood this feeling that was weighing down on her.

She was jealous.

She shook her head in disbelief. It didn't make sense. She wasn't jealous of Kathy. She was happily invested in Chandler's new relationship. She wanted nothing more than for him to find someone that would make him happy and it looked like she was it. Yet, when Rachel described her night with him, it sounded too much like Monica's relationship with Chandler. She didn't want to share that with anyone. That sweet guy was the one that she thought only she knew and got to enjoy.

Rachel and Phoebe spent more time making jokes about him than anything else. Now suddenly they were going to encroach on her secret weapon for coping with the pitfalls of life. Those long talks they would have at night, figuring out who they were and who they wanted to be. That was their thing. If he started to do that with Rachel, well then how special could Monica be?

She shook her head and laughed. _"This is ridiculous. Who cares how close they get. He can be a friend to both of us. I'm just too amped up from tonight at work. A good night sleep is what I need."_

Monica chuckled to herself again, shocked at how ridiculous she was behaving.

* * *

The next evening everyone was meeting at Central Perk. Phoebe was performing and it was probably going to be the last time the entire gang would all get together outside of the apartment before Christmas. Monica was running a little late as she had to go to three different uniform stores to find a chef's coat that would fit her. When she finally made her purchase, and dropped it off at her apartment, she knew everyone else was already going to be there. She hated being late, but she rationalized it away because she needed that new jacket, and buying a clean new uniform was more important than being on time for a cup of coffee with her friends. Even if it was Christmas.

As she walked into the coffee house, she saw everyone sitting over by the couch. Phoebe was on the "stage" tuning her guitar and Ross and Joey were seated at one of the high-top tables. When she got a little closer to everyone, her eyes fell down to the couch and she saw Rachel and Chandler sitting together, huddled close on one side. Rachel had her back turned halfway to him and he had his arm up over the back of the couch. To Monica, if they were any closer together, they would practically be snuggling.

She wondered what exactly was going on there between the two of them? Monica felt a chill run down her spine, but was certain it was just the winter air slipping through the door as people entered and exited the building. She walked over to the counter and ordered a cup of hot tea, her eyes never leaving the group as they sat patiently waiting for Phoebe to start her set. Once Gunther served her drink, she carried it over and joined the two of them on the couch.

She thought about saying something to them, she didn't know why, but there was this nagging need to make sure that Rachel and Chandler were not replacing her with each other. She thought, maybe she could bring up the hockey game they went to, or prod them a little about how they bonded last night. Fortunately, before she could confront them, Phoebe began to sing, and Monica forgot for a moment all about her crazy, jealous reaction to the two of them becoming closer.

As the song continued to play she was able to relax and even found some amusement in how Phoebe was able to rhyme Monica with Hanukah. Phoebe continued to sing, each line highlighting a different one of her friends and they all smiled and bobbed their heads along with the tune, encouraging her and enjoying the moment. Then, as if to remind Monica of what was bothering her, Phoebe's song put Rachel and Chandler together in one verse. The unintelligible lines lost on Monica as she sat there wondering if the dynamic in their group was shifting and if it was becoming obvious to everyone but her. Was she really losing Rachel and Chandler? Were the long hours working at Alessandro's creating some unforeseen wedge between her and some of her closest friends? Was this the price she had to pay for finally landing her dream job?

After the song was finished, Chandler excused himself so he could go to the bathroom and Monica took the opportunity to lean over and talk to Rachel. "What is going on with you two?"

Rachel, looking a little shocked as her eyes darted around the room. "What are you talking about?"

Monica rolled her eyes. "You and Chandler. You're practically in his lap."

"What? No I am not. You guys have sat closer than that. Hell, you've actually sat in his lap before!"

Monica bit her lip and started to look up, trying to figure out how to talk her way out of this. "Uh, I know, but, well, I think you guys should cut it out because it is really bothering...Ross. I've seen him looking at you guys ever since I got here and I think he might be getting the wrong idea. You know how he can get. He has a crazy jealous streak."

Rachel turned to look over at Ross and scoffed. "Are you sure? I mean, that's crazy. Chandler is going out with Kathy! I mean, it is ridiculous! Why would Ross think…ooooo….I'm going to talk to him."

As Rachel started to get up, Monica grabbed her arm and pulled her back down into the couch. "Wait. Rach. You know he isn't any good with confrontation. Do you really want to go down that road again? Start fighting with Ross? Is this really worth it?"

Rachel stopped and her face got very still. "No, I guess you're right."

Monica smiled and patted her on the leg. "Here, why don't you slide down and I'll move over and Chandler will have to sit over here next to me. Then Ross will forget all about this and everything will go back to being normal."

Rachel shrugged her shoulders and slid over to the end of the couch. Monica lifted herself up and then sat down in the middle seat. Chandler returned from the bathroom and walked over to where he was sitting. He paused for a moment when he noticed that everyone moved down a seat. He shook his head dismissively and sat down on the opposite side, next to Monica. She leaned into him slightly and pat him on the knee. He offered her a smile as he stretched his arm out behind her, his finger lightly touched the back of her shoulder as he settled into his seat.

"Hey. So, how did everything work out last night after Joey left. Do you think they're still going to give you a hard time down at the restaurant?"

Monica looked up at him and smiled before answering. She pressed back against the couch comfortably and rested her head in the crook of his arm. This was the way things were supposed to be. This was the correct order of things. Monica, firmly planted between her two best friends. Finally, everything feels like it is back to normal.


	16. Just Like Heaven

**Just Like Heaven**

As Monica entered the coffee house, she looked around to see if any of the others had arrived yet for their morning coffee. She was mildly surprised to see that Chandler was already there, sitting down on the couch alone. He was looking at a book with his foot up on the coffee table. It drove her insane whenever he did that. _"Who puts shoes on the furniture!"_

She slowly walked over and studied him for a moment before making her presence known. He was dressed very sharply in dark suit with a blue dress shirt and a tie that had patterns of yellow, blue and grey. She smirked as she thought to herself, _"He really wears a suit well. He looks good. He looks really good." _She walked around the end of the couch and as she came in view, he looked up at her and smiled.

"Hey Chandler. You're here early."

Chandler nodded. "Well, it is easy to get an early start to the day when you never fall asleep in the first place."

She furrowed her brow and allowed a half-smile to form on her lips. "What do you mean?"

"You didn't hear the screams last night? They were horrifying."

Monica shook her head. "The screams?"

"That girl from the sleep clinic. She said she talks in her sleep. She never said anything about the fact that she also screams in her sleep. And, as an added bonus, when she is screaming, you can't wake her up. Joey and I were up all night trying to get her to stop. We finally had to move her to the bathtub."

Monica laughed. "I'm going to get a cup of coffee. You need anything?"

He smiled at her and shook his head. "No, I'm fine."

As Monica walked away, he followed her with his eyes. She looked amazing. A short, summer lavender dress, white cardigan, and her hair looked fantastic. It framed her face perfectly. She was showing just enough leg to make it interesting and her body was incredible as always._ "Women should not look that good this early in the morning."_

Chandler always felt lucky that the women he was friends with were all very attractive, but something about Monica today made him realize again, for the first time in a while, that she was really hot.

He couldn't help but keep the goofy grin on his face as she came back over to the couch with her mug. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled back. He wondered if his moment of infatuation with how she looked today was due to the endorphins still running through his body after getting to have sex last night, or maybe it was just the fact that it was a gorgeous day and despite last night's adventures in insomnia, he was in a good mood. Perhaps the dream he had when he entered phase four was still dancing around in his subconscious or maybe it was just the result of a lack of sleep. Whatever it was, it was making it hard for him to keep his eyes off of her. _"She is going to make some guy very happy one day."_

As she slid next to him on the couch, Monica raised her eyebrows at him, her nose crinkled a bit as she smiled again and, in a moment of self-awareness, he finally averted his gaze and looked back down at his book.

Monica kept looking over at him after he returned to his reading. Something about that suit was really making him look good. He always had the right height for a suit like that and thanks to some much needed weight gain over the last year, he filled it out well. Even his face changed a bit; he no longer looked gaunt and instead had this youthful, boyish quality. She noted how he matched his tie with his shirt and that both contrasted the dark jacket and pants perfectly. Something about a man who knows how to dress was a real turn on for her. She even liked how his hair looked just rumpled enough as to not appear over-done. She shifted in closer to him, even though they had the entire couch to themselves and snatched a magazine from the table. She opened it up and began to lazily look at the photos inside, trying to see if anything would catch her eye that she could get lost in and forget how nice it felt to have her leg pressed up against his.

Chandler couldn't help but sneak a look at her legs every now and then out of the corner of his eyes, especially when she was letting them rest on him. He blamed the sex from last night again on his overactive libido. He always seemed to get extra lustful the more he had sex, and this year, he had more than his usual share. Joanna, Kathy, Marjorie. Three women in one year. That might be a new record for him. _"Is three really my record? I think Joey has had three in one night. Oh my God I am pathetic."_

Coping with a dry spell was actually not a problem for him. As far as Chandler was concerned, not having sex was pretty normal. Yet, once his motor started running, and he was getting it regularly, he was fairly insatiable. It was all he thought about. Even if he just had sex, he would be ready for more in minutes.

Monica was the opposite. She loved having sex, as long as it was with the right person. Sometimes, even with the wrong person, sex could be good for her. She would require a lot of it in one session to satisfy her, but once she was satiated, she could focus on other things and her salacity would be tamed. She did not do as well without sex for too long, and this year, it has been way too long. She stunned herself as she realized that it has been almost a year since the last time she had sex. _"That can't be right. A year? Was Pete really a year ago?"_

She was now certain that her lack of sex is why she was so easily aroused. That must be why she can't seem to stop noticing how broad Chandler's shoulders look in that jacket or how the dark color of the material makes his blue eyes pop. She was hard up. She was desperate. She was horny. Wearing Emily's wedding dress all day probably didn't help her state of mind either. She laughed and shook her head. At least the boys were nice to look at when she felt like she could hump the next random guy who walked into the coffee house.

Chandler decided to break their silence. As much as he liked to objectify a beautiful woman, when it came to his friends, he always tried to make sure it was short lived.

"So, Rachel really isn't coming to the wedding, huh?"

Monica put her magazine down on her lap. "No. She doesn't think she can handle it. It's obvious she still has feelings for Ross."

Chandler nodded. "I can get that. I feel bad for her, you know. I feel like she has had a really bad year. First her and Ross break up again and all that stuff with Joshua. Two failed relationships in one year is normally my thing."

Monica stifled a chuckle. "I know. I thought maybe the wedding would finally give her closure. Who knows, maybe spending some time apart will help. With Ross in London for the wedding and then Greece for his honeymoon she might have a good two weeks before she has to see him again. It has to be hard to see someone you're trying to get over every single day. No wonder she is having so much trouble. And now he's getting married."

Chandler nodded again in agreement. "Love stinks."

Monica rolled the magazine up in her hand and hit him with it. "No it does not! Love is magical! You are stupid!"

Chandler exaggerated being hurt and started rubbing his arm. "Ow."

Monica unfurled the magazine and returned her attention to the inside.

Chandler huffed and shook his head. "I just mean, it's hard to figure out. I thought I was in love. That didn't work. Then I thought just hooking up with the sleep clinic girl would be a good idea, but apparently I am just as bad at one-night stands as I am at long term relationships."

Monica reluctantly nodded and flashed him a sympathetic look. "Maybe you're right. I haven't been doing much better. I tried to go out with my ex's son and my high school crush. There is obviously something wrong with me."

They both got quiet for a moment and thought about the past year. Neither one of them were any better off than they were when they went to the beach. Both of them were still in the exact same place as they were then. They turned to look at each other for a moment and offered each other a nod.

Chandler looked off and rubbed his chin. "You know what. I think we've been going about this all wrong."

Monica crossed her legs and placed her hands on her lap. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we've been doing this one-on-one when we should be double teaming it."

Monica shook her head in bewilderment. "What are you talking about?"

"When we date, it's us versus the entire other gender. But, if we team up, we would have an inside man, or in your case, an inside woman. Think about it. You and I go out and if I see a girl, you can scope her out for me. Infiltrate the enemy territory. Get the lowdown. Then I could do the same thing for you."

Monica shook her head and smiled. "I don't think that will work. When a man and a woman go out together and try to pick up other people, that isn't called dating. It's called swinging. And that really creeps people out." She picked her magazine back up and started to idly thumb through the pages.

Chandler nodded and sighed in defeat. "Yeah. That probably would only work for Joey."

Monica laughed. "No. We just have to get better at finding the right person to be with."

"Or the right person for one night. And last night, I did not pick the right person."

Monica laughed again. She glanced over at Chandler and ran her hand up his arm reassuringly. She enjoyed the physical contact even though it was platonic. "Well, maybe one-night stands aren't your thing."

"It would be nice if it were. Joey makes it seem pretty easy."

"Well, unfortunately, you're not Joey. You're more like me."

Chandler raised an eyebrow. He adopted a bemused expression on his face. "What do you mean?"

"Well, remember that woman you went out with for a little while. What was her name? She had a husband and a boyfriend and you…Aurora! That's was it. Anyway, at the time you said that was every man's fantasy. No strings attached sex, but you broke it off because you wanted more than that. You don't want one-night stands. You want a connection. That's what I want too. Joey, well, he's happy just being Joey. He doesn't do complicated. Just having sex works for him. It is like he was created for the sole purpose of having a one-night stand. I don't think that kind of stuff really works for us, not anymore."

Chandler nodded. A dejected look fell over his face. "Yeah. It's tragic. Because sex is really fun."

Monica exhaled a laugh. "I know!" She leaned over and took a sip of her coffee.

Chandler picked up his book, and he opened it as he returned his focus to the pages inside. "Well, maybe we will get lucky next time. Maybe we will get that connection with the next person we have sex with."

Monica smiled as she finally found an article to read. She slid slightly closer to him, their bodies were now inches away, yet they were not touching. They could both feel the warmth radiating off of each other and that sensation allowed a level of familiar comfort to wash over them. "That would be nice."


	17. I Second That Emotion

**I Second That Emotion**

It was December 2nd and almost ten at night when Chandler walked into his mother's Manhattan apartment. After a long day, he finally made it back to New York for winter break. He would have been home much earlier if everything had gone according to plan. His mother was supposed to meet him at his school and drive him home, but something must have come up, because she never showed. He should have expected it though, something always came up.

He first called when she was an hour late, but there was no answer on the home phone, so he left a message. After two hours, he became worried, and tried her at home again. Still no answer except for the machine. He couldn't even hear her voice because she had him set it up when she bought it a few year ago. He felt like he was literally just talking to himself.

Finally, after four hours of sitting on the steps of the main building while he waited for a car that would never come, he became angry. He left a terse message with his mother's answering service that was available through her publisher, letting her know he was going to find his own way home. He grabbed his bag and began the five-mile walk towards the only town with a bus station that was close to the all-boy high school that his parents had shipped him off to over three years ago. The weather was cold and the wind stung his face as he trudged along the highway. Throughout the long walk, he was at least able to provide himself with some comfort in the knowledge that at least he would graduate this year and move on to college. Become his own man, become a new man where no one knows that his mother was an erotic novelist or that his dad was a drag queen. He could live in a dorm in the city; make some friends, maybe meet a girl, fall in love, and he would never have to endure his parents neglect again.

Chandler had become quite the expert on making last minute travel arrangements during his years away. His parents rarely came to visit. The last time either of his parents had actually traveled with him between school and the city was when they dropped him off freshman year. He had not seen them again on school grounds until his father started showing up to his swim meets, dressed as various classic Hollywood starlets. His father was actually the main reason why he could not even ask a friend for a lift back to the city; after those little performances from his dad in front of his classmates, he did not have any friends left anymore. Just students snickering behind his back and scribbling "fag" on his locker. He learned to deflect the only way he knew how, by joining in on the joke and making quips at his parent's expense or indulging in self-deprecating humor. When you can make fun of yourself better than the other guys can, they tend to lose interest.

It was several hours later when the bus finally lurched its way into Manhattan and pulled into Grand Central Station. The smell of the bus terminal did nothing to help his mood, a mix of garbage and urine. He made sure not to touch anything on his way outside. When he stepped out onto the street, he pulled his collar around his neck to insulate himself from the cold and wet weather. The ground slick from sleet, was icy and threatened to seep through his shoes and soak his feet. He tried and failed to hail a taxi. He knew he was wasting his time. In weather like this, cabs were normally nowhere to be found. Begrudgingly, he began the twenty-block walk towards his mother's building.

Once he got inside the apartment, he stripped off his wet clothes and took a long, hot shower. He was certain that if anyone was home, they would eventually hear him and investigate who the intruder was that made themselves comfortable in the sleek upper west side pad. No one ever did come looking. Once he dried himself off and threw on some sweats that were in his old dresser, he walked around the place, checking every room, but finding no one there. He grabbed some food from the fridge and a can of soda and walked into the living room. He saw the red light blinking on the answering machine and walked over to play the messages.

_"Hey mom. It's me. You remember me, right? Chandler? Your son? Is anyone there? Okay, well, classes are out and I'm ready to go. It's been about an hour. Is a car coming or…well…look, I guess I'll wait about another hour or so and try back if I don't hear from you. Okay. Bye."_

_"Mom. Hello? All right. Well. I guess I'll figure out my own way home. I'm probably going to have to use the credit card since I don't have a lot of cash and since I'm seventeen and I don't have a job…..unbelievable."_

_"Chandler? Darling? Did you get home yet? I'm so sorry but I met this wonderful young man, what's your name again sweetie? Jeff? Okay. I met this wonderful young man Jeff and we just decided to fly off to Jamaica for the holidays! What better way to ring in the New Year than on the beach with a coconut full of rum, am I right? Anyway, there's some money for you in the safe that you can take for food and anything else you might need, and I left you a present on the counter but you have to open it tonight. Merry Christmas!"_

_"Hello son. This is dad. Your mom called to let me know she was not going to be around for the holidays. If you want to come out to Vegas you can. I can send you a ticket. I'm going to be working the whole time, but I'm sure we can find something for you to do. Still remember any of the old tunes? Call me when you get in!"_

Chandler scoffed and shook his head. He looked down next to the phone and saw an envelope with his mother's handwriting on it. _"Merry Christmas Chandler"_ He picked it up, opened it and pulled out two event tickets from inside. He rolled his eyes and stuffed the tickets back into the envelope.

He picked up his duffel bag from the floor, opened it up and started to rifle through it until he finally pulled out a cassette tape. He walked over to the stereo, slid it in and pressed play on the machine. The opening notes of "In Your Eyes" began to fill the room and he collapsed back onto the couch_. "Well, I guess this is as close to the real thing as I'll get tonight. Who would I have brought anyway? Maybe if I went by myself I would have met someone, maybe even a girl. No chance of that now I guess. Good going mom. You got me tickets to a concert that is probably just finishing up."_

He reached back into the envelope and pulled out the tickets. He sighed as he read the information printed on the front.

_Madison Square Garden. Peter Gabriel, So Tour. December 2nd, 8pm. Section 117, row 12 seat 11 and 12._

* * *

Monica walked over to her dresser and picked up the ticket to look at it one more time.

_Madison Square garden. Peter Gabriel, SO Tour. December 2nd, 8pm. Section 117, row 12 seat 10._

Her first rock concert. Even the fact that she was going with her brother and his friend could not put a damper on her excitement. She was going to take the train into Manhattan, go to Madison Square Garden and be at a real-life rock concert. No parents. No visit to Nana's. She felt so grown up.

Monica had been listening to the cassette tape all day, and like everyone else at her school, she was totally in love with "In Your Eyes" and played it repeatedly. She loved to close her eyes as she listened and imagined a handsome stranger sweeping her off her feet while the song plays. Maybe she was in Paris or some other foreign country. She fantasized about her first kiss and finding true love. That's what that song did to her. It made her believe that her fantasies could come true.

She swayed a bit to the music and then stopped so she could stand in front of the mirror. She checked out the outfit she and Rachel bought at the mall last weekend. It was frustrating to find that she is now a size larger than she was during the summer. It made finding clothes so much harder since they already run so small at most of the stores. They always catered to skinnier girls. She tried on so many different tops until she finally found one that fit well enough. It was a little tight around her shoulders and midsection, but when she sucked her stomach in just a little bit, it looked good. She would not be able to exhale for the next few hours, but it would be worth it.

She twisted and turned in the mirror. She shifted the top a bit and pulled it down as some of the skin from her waist looked like it was getting exposed when she bent over too far. She really wanted to wear this outfit. Black shoes, black stretch pants and a shiny, maroon button-down blouse that looked as if it were made of silk. It was not anything that someone would consider high fashion, but it was a cute outfit, and Monica wanted to look cute tonight. She thought, maybe if she looked nice and knew all the words to every song and danced along enthusiastically, that maybe she could catch the eye of a handsome boy and they could enjoy the concert together.

"Monica! Come on! Dad needs to drive us to the train station in twenty minutes!"

Monica rolled her eyes and huffed. "I'll be down in a minute Ross!"

She gave herself one more look, smiled affirmatively at her reflection and opened the door to her bedroom. She bounced downstairs excitedly, grabbing the railing with one hand as she skipped over the last step.

Ross was sitting on the arm of the couch in the living room. He saw her and slapped his hands down on his legs. "Finally!"

Monica shot an annoyed glare at her brother and walked into the kitchen as she wanted to look for one last diet coke before they left. As she stuck her head in the refrigerator, she hummed the tune to "In Your Eyes" lightly.

"Oh, Monica. Those clothes don't fit you dear."

Monica closed the door and turned to face her mother. "What? Sure they do, they're just a little…"

Her mother clicked her tongue and shook her head. "Oh no. You can't go out like that. You're liable to rip that shirt if you move. You have to change."

Monica looked down at herself and allowed her voice to grow soft. "But mom, I like this shirt."

Judy Geller folded her arms and adopted a pitying look. "Honey, it doesn't fit. Look how tight it is, you can barely move your arms. And those pants are way too form fitting, they show off too much of the shape of your thighs. Can't you go change? You'll be much more comfortable in something that fits better."

Monica looked up at her mother and then back down at herself. Suddenly, the cute girl she saw in the mirror was gone, and now all she could see was the awkward fat girl that her mother saw. She now became keenly aware of how her legs rubbed together when she moved them, how the sleeves felt like they were constricting her arms, and how the buttons on her top were stretching apart, showing her skin through the gaps. She began to wrap her arms around herself as if to cover up.

Her mother placed her hands on Monica's shoulders, as if trying to soothe her. "Why don't you wear some sweat pants? And maybe a sweat shirt."

Monica looked down at the floor with a disappointed expression on her face. She could only offer her mother a quiet. "Okay." As she exited the kitchen.

She slowly walked upstairs as Ross flailed his arms, clearly frustrated that his sister was going back to her room. "Now where are you going?"

Monica did not answer. She was lost now in her feelings of inadequacy. She shuffled slowly up towards her room.

As she started to look through her dresser drawers, she could hear her father's voice booming from downstairs as he spoke to her mother. "Judy, why would you make her change? She looks fine."

"Jack, she is too big for those clothes. She's too big for all her clothes. They've all gotten tighter on her this year. She barely has anything to wear."

"Judy, we can't push her. We agreed; she would have to work on losing the weight when she was ready. On her own."

"Jack. She just looks so bad lately. Unhealthy. I'm just worried."

"Well, maybe stop using her as a garbage disposal every time we have leftovers you don't want to put away."

Monica plopped down on the edge of her bed, her face became stoic as she tried to fight back tears. She heard heavy footsteps on the stairs that eventually approached her bedroom door. Her father called out for her softly. "Monica? Are you almost ready?"

"In here dad."

Her father walked into her bedroom. "You can wear this if you want. You look nice."

"No, mom's right. Actually, dad. I don't feel so good. I don't think I can go. Tell Ross he can bring Steve like he wanted to. I know he was only bringing me because you told him to."

Jack sat down next to her and put his arm around her. "Are you sure? Because if you want to go you can. Do you want to come to dinner with me and your mom instead?"

"No, really. I don't feel well. Its, uh, cramps. Girl stuff."

Jack stands back up, slightly embarrassed. "Oh. Do you want me to send your mother.."

Monica cut him off abruptly. "No!"

"Okay. I'll tell Ross. How about when I get back me and my little harmonica go out for some ice cream?"

Monica looked down at her hands. "Maybe, if I feel better."

He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the side of her head. "Okay, I'll see you later."

Jack left and closed the door to her bedroom behind him. Monica slowly changed out of her clothes and into some sweats. She could hear her brother complain downstairs as her family left the house, and once she heard the car pull out of the driveway, she settled down and felt like she could finally breathe again.

She walked over to her radio and decided to play the tape she had been listening to all day; fast-forwarding it to "In Your Eyes". She walked over to her bed and laid back as she closed her eyes. She no longer fantasized about a tall, dark stranger and her first romantic kiss in some far off land. Now, she sees a sweet and kind boy, who was nice to her, and loved her for who she was and wanted to spend his life with her. Where they laugh together and love each other, accepting all of their imperfections.

She smiled to herself as this new vision overtook her worried mind as she imagined her and this nice boy listening to this song, while the rest of the world melted away.


	18. My Funny Valentine

**My Funny Valentine**

**1994**

As the credits for the movie begin to roll, Monica shifts a bit in her seat, lifting her head from the crook of Chandler's arm that he had stretched out over the back of the couch. She tugs at some lint she had spied earlier on his pants, just above his knee, and purses her lips. "Well I don't understand. Why couldn't they just slow the train down?"

Chandler scoffs, expressing his disdain at what he perceives as an unreasonable critique. "Because it's Keanu Reeves, okay? He's extreme. Plus, the movie is literally called 'Speed'. Not 'Slow Down'."

Monica sits up a bit, now pulling away from him as she turns to challenge his answer. "That doesn't make any sense. If he could make the train go faster, why couldn't he just make it go slower?"

Chandler throws his arms up as an antagonized sigh escapes his lips. "It doesn't have to make sense! It's an action movie about a bus!"

Monica folds her arms and smirks, enjoying the fact that just a little prodding got him this worked up already. She was about to continue needling him about the plot holes in the movie when the front door to the apartment creaks open.

They both swivel in their seats to face the door as Ross enters the apartment. He nods at the two of them as a quick greeting and removes his coat, hanging it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He shivers a bit from the cold weather and walks over to the kitchen sink so he can fill up a teapot. "Hey guys, what's going on?"

Monica props herself up on her knees so she is facing Chandler but can also easily look over at Ross in the kitchen. She leans over the back of the couch, slinging one of her arms behind it. "We just finished watching this ridiculous movie Chandler rented, that doesn't make any sense."

Chandler folds his arms and crosses one leg over the other; an indignant look on his face. "You just have no taste for fine cinema."

Ross reaches into the cabinets and grabs at a mug, sniffing the inside of it and then placing it on the counter. "What did you watch?"

Monica looks back over at Chandler and tries to suppress a mischievous smile. "Speed."

Ross lights a flame under the pot and leans back against the sink. "Ooo, that's a good one. But that bus never would have made that jump. The physics don't make any sense."

Chandler pulls his hands up and mimes as if he were writing on a pad. "Note to self: never watch movies with a Geller ever again."

Monica offers Chandler a mocking smile in response as she shakes her head. She turns back to face her brother. "So Ross, are you really going to keep that monkey?"

Ross's eyes light up with excitement. "His name is Marcel, not 'that monkey', and are you kidding me? Yeah, I'm keeping him! It'll be great!"

Monica winces a bit as she gets up from the couch. "But won't it make your apartment all messy?"

"Well, sure I'll have to do some extra cleaning, and I might have to put a diaper on him every now and then so he doesn't leave excrement all over the house."

Monica and Chandler both grimace and simultaneously express their disgust with an elongated "Ewww!"

"Well Monica, I guess that means you'll be a monkey's aunt." Chandler smiles and starts to chuckle triumphantly to himself. He looks up and sees Monica with her arms folded; a stoic expression on her face. "Get it? Monkey's aunt. Instead of monkey's uncle."

Monica raises her eyebrows as a rebuke and rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I got it. It just wasn't funny." She starts to walk towards the kitchen, grabbing her purse from off the table. "Anyway, I don't have time for all this…monkey business. I have to do a little last minute Christmas shopping."

Chandler turns and leans over the back of the couch, smiling. "Oh, well now, you'll have to buy something for the monkey. Do they gift wrap bananas?"

Monica cannot help but laugh as Ross steps forward, clearly not amused by their antics. "Ha ha guys. All right, that's enough."

Monica walks back over to Chandler, an enthusiastic smile on her face. "Oh, looks like Ross has a chimp on his shoulder." She starts to laugh and nods at Chandler, raising her eyebrows in his direction as if she were urging him on to laugh as well. "Get it? Instead of chip on his shoulder."

Chandler purses his lips and twists his face as if he had just sucked on a lemon. "We got it Monica, it just wasn't funny."

Monica mocks an exaggerated imitation of Chandler as she tilts her head side-to-side.

Chandler smiles and pats Monica on the arm, reassuringly. "Maybe I'll come with you. I haven't gotten Ross anything yet, and I bet he could use a big yellow hat."

Ross shakes his head, clearly becoming annoyed at the two of them. "Okay. Get it all out you two. Then maybe we can act like adults again."

Monica plops down in the oversized chair, temporarily forgetting all about her initial plan to leave the apartment. "Well Ross, what do you do with a monkey anyway?"

Chandler looks up and rubs his chin. "I guess you hit the singles scene, maybe grab a beer at the monkey bars."

Monica laughs aloud and puts her hand on his knee to support herself from doubling over. "I liked that one." She straightens up again and smirks. "Ooo. I got one. Do you think he can still pick up chimps? He may be past his primate!" Monica flashes a large, oversized smile and wiggles her eyebrows up and down, waiting for the other two to start laughing.

Chandler winces a bit. "Maybe Ross is right. Maybe we took it too far." The two of them look back into the kitchen, but Ross is no longer there. His jacket gone and the teapot whistling as the water boils. Chandler looks over at Monica and smirks. "I guess he's a real furious George."

Monica flattens her mouth humorlessly. "Okay, maybe that's enough."

* * *

**1995**

"Oh man…I gotta call all my cousins!" With that revelation, Joey rushes out of the apartment, phone in hand, preparing to call all the male members of his family to share with them the fact that, no; that is not how you measure pants. Chandler sits stoically, the memory of his own personal undercarriage violation returning to the forefront of his mind. Ross, raises his eyebrows in disbelief and simply pats Chandler on the shoulder reassuringly as he grabs his jacket and leaves.

Monica returns from her bedroom, compulsively picking at her hair, still insecure about the haircut Phoebe had given her. She looks around, noting that only Chandler and Rachel remain in the apartment. The latter still out on the balcony. Monica allows her shoulders to slump slightly as she looks over at her roommate sympathetically. She turns to Chandler. "Do you think she'll be okay?"

"Oh no. I'm not getting involved in this again. I've done enough damage. Do you want me to blab everything to Ross? Like I did with Rachel? If it wasn't for me she never would have found out how Ross felt before Julie was in the picture!"

Monica smiles at him. "This isn't your fault. I think she would have started to see Ross like this on her own without your little push."

"Really?"

Monica shakes her head quickly. "No, But I thought it might make you feel better if I said that."

Chandler screws up his face in response. "Oh, okay. Thanks for trying Arthur."

Monica huffs loudly. "Enough with the Dudley Moore jokes." Monica walks over to Chandler, puts one hand on her hip and points a finger towards Chandler's crotch with the other. "You know, my hair will grow back, but the memory of an old man grabbing your boys will live with you forever!"

Chandler grumbles at her and shakes his head. "You know. You're right. I know that you're really sensitive about your hair right now. Anyway, we shouldn't be making fun of each other. We should be across the hall making fun of Joey!"

Monica perks up as a devilish grin spreads across her lips. She claps her hands together excitedly. "That sounds like a great idea!"

Chandler hops out of his chair, bouncing back-and-forth on the balls of his feet. "Okay, just get all your inappropriate penis puns ready now, because once I get started, you may find it hard to keep up."

Monica shoots him a skeptical glare. "Oh, okay. I'll try." They both scurry over to the door and Monica puts her hand on Chandler's chest to get his attention. "Ooo! I'll ask him if his tailor's name is Bofa."

Chandler furrows his brow. "Bofa?"

Monica makes her voice deep, trying to mimic the stereotype of an Italian-American man's dialect. "Bofa deez nuts!" She starts giggling uncontrollably.

Chandler looks down at her, a remorseful look upon his face. "Please. Don't make that joke. Because, if you do, then I'll have to start making fun of you again."

Monica adopts a sheepish expression and shrugs her shoulders. "Okay funny man, what are you going to say?"

Chandler looks off to the side as he tries to think of a joke. "I don't know, maybe something about how he should know getting his haircut shouldn't include letting his barber rest his junk on his shoulder."

"What?"

"Trust me. It happens to all of us."

"Well then, give me that one!"

Chandler puts his arm around her shoulder as they start to walk out of the apartment and into the hallway. "What? I'm not giving you my jokes."

Monica stops and points a finger in his chest. "Look at my hair! I need a win!"

Chandler sighs, "Fine, I got one where we can call his tailor 'Magic Johnson'."

* * *

**1996**

As Chandler enters Apartment 20, he gives a half-hearted smile and nod to Monica and Phoebe who are sitting at the kitchen table. He walks over to the refrigerator and takes out a bottle of water, twisting the cap off so he can take a swig. Monica looks up at him, a sympathetic smile spreads across her lips. "Hey."

Chandler nods back and responds with a weak, dejected "hey" of his own.

Monica looks over at Phoebe and then back to Chandler. "Hey, did you know Phoebe thought she killed Ugly Naked Guy because she went to the dentist?" Phoebe looks up at Monica, slightly surprised at her outburst.

He looks at Phoebe, his eyebrows crinkle as a confused look falls across his face. "Really?" He then shrugs his shoulders and turns back towards Monica. "Oh yeah. I guess that's what Joey was talking about when he was looking for the chopsticks." He leans up against the counter and looks down at the floor.

Monica, watching his mood sink, begins to let a smile curl up on one side of her lips. "Yeah. I guess she thought he was a cavity." Monica starts to snicker quietly.

Chandler allows a wry smile to form. "Well, we certainly got to see some of Ugly Naked Guy's body cavities over the years."

Monica over laughs at the joke, covering her mouth. "Yeah. We had to make sure he was still alive and didn't suffer an acci-dental death. Get it! dental!" She makes sure to put an emphasis on "dental", laughing at her own joke.

Phoebe looks up and swivels her head back-and-forth between Monica and Chandler. "I'm sorry. What's going on here?"

Chandler walks over and sits down in a chair between the two of them, shifting it closer to Monica as he puts his water bottle down. "You know Pheebs, I never heard of this problem before, and I've been to the dentist a ton of times. I know the drill."

Phoebe rests her hands on the table, a serious look on her face, unamused at her friends' jokes. "Oh, okay. I see where this is going."

Monica elbows Chandler gently in his ribs. "Phoebe, have you tried to talk to your dentist about this stuff or does he just brush you off?" They both open their mouths wide as they chortle and look at each other. Chandler lays his hand out flat and Monica runs hers over his as they wiggle their fingers together.

Phoebe stands up with a stern look on her face.

Chandler attempts to stifle a laugh, "Oh, Phoebe, please don't get up. We didn't mean to hurt your fillings?"

Phoebe shakes her head and turns to walk out. As she reaches the door and opens it, she shoots one more glare at the two of them, who are too busy laughing at each other. "You know, no one likes you two when you're like this." She exits the room, closing the door behind her.

Monica and chandler laugh a bit more, sharing a high five. They settle down a bit and he smiles at her as she takes his hand. "Hey, Chandler. I'm sorry about Janice."

* * *

1997

Chandler glides into Monica and Rachel's apartment. A dour expression on his face. He walks around the couch and slumps down next to Monica. "You guys mind if I hang here for a little while until Joey and Kathy finish up?" Monica rubs his arm gently and nods.

Rachel sits up in the comfy chair. "A little while? I mean, she's with Joey right, that could take…" Monica shoots an admonishing glare at Rachel, cutting her off. "I mean, sure. We can hang out!"

Chandler, a little confused, shifts his eyes between the two of them, making eye contact with each one as he speaks. "She figured out I bought her the book. I don't know what I'm supposed to do now."

Monica shakes her head and Rachel shrugs her shoulders. The three of them sit silently for a few minutes. Rachel then bounces up a bit in her chair, giddy with excitement. "Ooo! Chandler. Look!" She grabs a folded-up paper from the coffee table and jabs it at him. "I finished a crossword puzzle! All on my own!"

Chandler flashes her a crooked smile and nods proudly at her. Monica joins him and as he unfurls the paper to look at Rachel's work. Monica slides up next to him, leaning into his body as she reads over his shoulder. Chandler wraps one of his arms around Monica, letting his hand rest at her waist as she runs her finger along the paper, checking the answers. "Uh, Rach. Fluffy is not a species of cat."

Rachel sits back, slightly insulted. "Yes it is. You have fluffy, furry, uh…curious…"

Chandler and Monica look at each other skeptically and then focus their eyes on the paper again, much more intently than before. Monica squints her eyes as she tries to make out her roommates handwriting. "Rachel? What is a Twirm?"

"You know. When you spin around fast. You twirm."

Chandler looks over at Monica and then back at Rachel. "Do you mean twirl?"

Rachel exhales sharply in frustration. "Twirl did not fit because of thirteen down."

Monica traces her finger across the page, from the clue for thirteen down to the answer Rachel wrote. "Robin Williams movie: The World According to blank….you wrote Mork."

"Yeah, Robin Williams. He was Mork."

Chandler's looks at Monica, his eyes bulging; slightly horrified by Rachel's answers so far. "Garp. Not Mork. It was The World According to Garp."

"Oh, I thought it was Mork and Mindy. You mean it was Garp and Mindy?"

Monica places her hand on Chandler's knee, settling him down as he appeared about to leap out of his seat. "You know Rach, maybe crossword puzzles aren't really your thing."

Chandler snickers a little, earning him an icy stare from Rachel. He ducks his head down sheepishly. "I'm sorry Rach, but they do have those word scrambles in here."

"No, I don't do that well putting words together from scrambled letters"

"Well, you aren't that good with the letters in the correct order either. You can't do any worse than this crossword puzzle." Monica starts to chuckle. Chandler looks over at her and laughs.

Rachel shoots up straight out of the chair and starts to stomp over to her room. "You know what! I'm leaving before you two get rolling. As a matter of fact, I'm going to talk to the others. You two aren't allowed to hang out together anymore without supervision. You're way too close and you gang up on us and Monica starts to sound like you with all these terrible jokes." She jabs her finger at Chandler and then storms into her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

Monica and Chandler look at each other incredulously and then look back down at the paper. "What the heck was that all about?"

Chandler shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know. You're the one who has to live with her." He looks back down at the crossword puzzle. "Half of these aren't even words."

"I know. Maybe she fell and hit her head or something."

Chandler lets out a light chuckle. "Maybe. Although we may not want to get sick around her."

Monica looks up at him, puzzled. "Why not?"

"Because her answer for, 'Where do you take a sick person' was 'disposal' instead of 'hospital'."

Monica starts laughing loudly as she shakes her head, with Chandler joining her. Both of them sharing a joyful, hearty laugh. Suddenly, a familiar shrill and angry voice shouts at them from Rachel's room, causing them to cover their mouths as they try to stifle their laughter. "I can still hear you guys out there!"


	19. Cruel to Be Kind

**Cruel to Be Kind**

**June 15****th**** 1991**

"Ross!" Monica charges into her brother's kitchen like a raging bull. She closes the distance between them almost as fast as her brother can turn around to face her. "Why would you tell your friend Chandler about the open apartment across the hall from me?"

Ross is startled by his sister's enraged entrance and he tries to avoid the admonishing finger that she began to jab in his face. He backs into the counter and drops the dish he was wiping dry, causing it to shatter as it hit the floor. "Monica! Look what you made me do!"

Up until this moment, Ross had thought the evening was a rousing success. He and Carol, with only three months to go until their wedding, had invited the six members of their bridal party over for a celebratory dinner. They had gifts to give to each member as a token of their appreciation for being a part of the ceremony and enjoyed the idea of an informal meal at their apartment with some of their closest friends. They also wanted to work out travel arrangements, lodging and let them know who they would be paired up with as they walked down the aisle.

Everyone seemed to be getting along fine all night. Monica brought over some food she had prepared at her place and everyone was enjoying the wine. Hosting an event with his fiancé made Ross feel like a married man for the first time. When the conversation came around to where everyone lived, Ross had an epiphany; Chandler was looking for a new apartment and Monica had one available in her building right across the hall from her. It made perfect sense at the time to mention it while they were both together in the same room. The added bonus of his best friend being able to keep an eye on his little sister was the last push he needed to bring himself to say something to them.

Monica waited until everyone else left before confronting her brother. She was furious that Ross brought up the idea of Chandler moving into her building. He must have never picked up on how much Monica disliked Chandler. While, she was proud of how well she could hide it, she still thought that at least her brother would have noticed. Even though she was always cordial and friendly when he was around, she would throw out the occasional verbal jab under her breath at his expense. Chandler never seemed to react either, always more amused with his own terrible jokes, further solidifying her negative opinion of him. He was acerbic, aloof, immature, and sloppy; he was basically everything Monica disliked in men.

The two siblings glare at each other as they drop down to the floor to start picking up the pieces of the broken plate. "Ross, you know I don't like him. Why would you tell him to call me so I could show him the building?"

Ross, adopts an agitated tone, exasperated from years of dealing with his sister's bossiness. Yet, he also avoids making eye contact with her, knowing how intimidating she can be. Instead, he focuses his attention on cleaning up the mess they made. "What do you mean you don't like him? He's a good guy."

Monica sits up on her knees and shrugs her shoulders as she places a few pieces of the shattered dinnerware on the kitchen table. "He just rubs me the wrong way, okay?"

Ross rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders. "Well, I didn't know that. I didn't think it would be that big of a deal. It's not like you guys would be living together or even have to see each other." Ross sits up and takes a moment to compose himself, allowing his tone to soften. "Look Mon, he has been trying to find a place to live for over a month and the village is perfect for him. If he really bothers you, just tell him the apartment is already rented out."

Monica screws up her face as she realizes that she is already resigned to showing Chandler the apartment. "Ugh. I can't do that. What if he finds out I lied."

"What do you care? You don't like him."

"That doesn't mean I don't want him to like me. You know how I am. I don't like to disappoint people, even if I hate them. Plus, it is hard to be mean to someone when you cut off their toe!"

Ross giggles a bit at the memory of two years ago, his college roommate limping throughout his junior year. "Well, I'm sorry. Maybe he won't even call or go and look at it. Maybe he will be afraid that you'll be coming for the rest of his foot this time."

Monica huffs as she gets up and walks over to the broom closet. "You better hope he doesn't call. I'm going to hold you responsible if he becomes my neighbor. The last thing I need is Chandler Bing in my life."

* * *

**June 21****st**** 1991**

Monica turns off the vacuum when she hears what sounds like impatient knocking on her door. She shakes her head as a dejected expression falls upon her face. Not only is she being distracted from cleaning her living room, but she knew the hand that is knocking on her door belongs to Chandler Bing. She spits out an aggravated "Coming!" and opens the door.

Monica takes a step back when she sees the version of her brother's friend that is standing in her doorway. He is taller than she remembers from when they were at her brother's for dinner last week. He also looks better too. He wears a dark suit well. His hair was striking just the right balance between styled and messy. He might actually be what most women consider attractive if he didn't have that goofy smile plastered on his face, or if he wasn't wearing that obnoxious, multi-colored tie.

"Hi. Ross said I could come by after work. Thanks again for this. I hope I'm not keeping you…" he pauses as he peeks into her apartment and sees the vacuum in the center of the room. "…from doing anything fun."

Before he arrived, Monica had planned to come across annoyed and inconvenienced throughout Chandler's visit to try and scare him off from wanting to be her neighbor, but despite herself, her tone comes across as cheerful. "Oh, no trouble at all. I'm glad to help." She turns around and silently admonishes herself for being friendly as she snatches a key and a business card from the counter by the door. "Treeger left me a key so I could show you around. And this is the number of the building manager if you want to get any information on the rent and stuff like that." Chandler takes the card from her and flashes a half-smile as a wordless thank you.

"Uh, if you're busy, I can just look around on my own and bring the key back."

"That's okay. I've never been inside it before. This might be my only chance to see it and figure out if my place is nicer." The two of them walk across the hall and Monica carefully unlocks door, allowing it to creak as she slowly swings it open.

"Hey, this looks good." Chandler walks through the kitchen and into the living room, taking note of where the bathroom is located. He steps over to the far wall and quickly opens and looks inside both bedrooms. "Wow, two bedrooms? This is so much better than where I am now. I just have one room and a small bathroom."

Monica pulls her arms around herself as she tries to avoid touching anything. "It is a little dirty." She looks down at the kitchen floor which is marred with sticky dust. "Make that a lot dirty."

"Really? I mean, it looks great to me."

Monica, shocked that he can't see all the filth that she has already started to catalog in her head, sighs in contempt. "Are you serious? The counter has dust on it, there's rust around the handle of the refrigerator, the carpet looks like it hasn't been vacuumed in months and don't even get me started on those cobwebs on the ceiling."

Chandler smirks as he walks back towards the counter. "What's the verdict? Is your place better?"

Monica rolls with condescending laughter. "Then this dump? Uh, yeah." She sniggers a bit more and rolls her eyes. "As if!"

"Can I see your place?"

Monica stiffens up a bit as her laughter trails off. "I guess. But don't get used to this, okay? If you get this apartment, I don't want you thinking you can just come over whenever you want. I don't need Ross's friend spying on me."

"Wow. You got me. I actually don't need an apartment. I just rent rooms all over the city so I can spy on people's sisters. It isn't a thriving business, but they say do what you love."

Monica twists her face up, imitating his tone as she mocks laughter. "All I am saying is you have your life and I have mine."

Chandler chuckles and rests his hand down on the kitchen counter. "I guess vacuuming on a Friday night can be kind of considered a life. If you're eighty."

Monica huffs and shakes her head. "Okay, well, maybe it's time for you to be going. Thanks for stopping by."

Chandler follows her out of the apartment and closes the door behind him. "I'll be sure to report back to Ross about your wild and crazy lifestyle."

* * *

**July 6****th**** 1991**

Upon completing her morning run in the park, Monica finishes her workout by jogging home and up the five flights of stairs to her floor, lifting her knees high with every step. When she reaches her floor, she walks over to her apartment and places her hands on either side of the frame to her front door as she engages in a few stretches. While she stands there, alternating stretches between her calves, she can't help but turn to look across the hall at apartment 19. The door is propped open by a chair and there are open boxes strewn across the kitchen and living room. She steps closer to the entrance of the apartment and shudders as the unkempt sight of her new neighbor's home, which fills her with an uncomfortable urge to fix it. "It's been four days. How is he not done moving in!"

She slips inside his apartment and looks around. Everything still looks dirty. The counters, the wall, the refrigerator, the cabinets; Monica can almost feel her skin crawl at the sight. "How does he sleep in here?"

She storms over to her apartment and pulls out a basket of cleaning supplies from under the sink, She rummages around inside her cabinet and pulls out a roll of contact paper, a pair of scissors and a ruler. She shakes her head angrily as she carries everything across the hall and into Chandler's apartment.

Once inside, she drops the crate on the counter, slips on a pair of yellow latex gloves and begins to scrub at the sink, She swells with pride and smiles at the progress she is making in just a few seconds of work. She becomes so engrossed in the task she has taken upon herself that she doesn't hear the sound of footsteps and whistling coming from the hallway, completely unaware that Chandler has returned until he is standing at the front door.

He stops in the doorway and smirks as he sees Monica, furiously scrubbing at the kitchen counter. "Uh, I don't remember ordering this."

Monica, never looking up, huffs and continues her work. "How do you live like this? The place is a mess, you still have boxes to unpack. And where did you go? You just leave your door wide open so anyone could just walk in."

Chandler shrugs and steps into the room. "One of the locks gets stuck and I can't open it. How old are these doors?"

"I have that problem too. I'll show you how to keep that lock open. You'll have to only use the chain and the deadbolt instead. Now why don't you come over here and start measuring out this contact paper for your cabinets."

"I don't know what any of that means."

Monica sticks the roll of contact paper in his face. "Just take this and measure it out so it fits on the shelves."

"I was kind of hoping to watch TV and take a nap."

"Well, unless you can finish unpacking and nap at the same time, start measuring."

"Wait? We're unpacking?"

"You're unpacking. I'm going to be coordinator."

* * *

**July 13****th**** 1991**

Chandler turns the corner of Grove street after stopping by a nearby Sushi restaurant on his way home from work for some take-out. As he focuses his gaze on the entrance to his new building, he sees Monica struggling to keep the lobby door open as she tries to bring several shopping bags inside. He quickens his pace to catch up to her before she goes in. "Hey. Need some help?"

Monica turns and screws up her face, as if offended by the suggestion. "I don't need help!"

"Oh, Okay. I guess you're just doing some kind of street theater then. The dance of too many bags." Chandler picks up three of her bags and offers her a crooked smile.

Monica pulls the bags from Chandler's grasp and puts them back down on the ground. "I told you I don't need any help!"

Chandler shakes his head and is about to roll his eyes and offer a sharp comment, but restrains himself as he comes up with a different tactic. "Mon, you would actually be helping me. See, I have been sitting at my desk all day and I could really use a bit of a work out."

Monica's face starts to soften as she fights allowing a smile to form across her lips. "Really?"

"Oh yeah. So, by letting me carry these bags, you'd be doing me a favor."

"Well, they do say being inactive for a long period of time can lead to blood clots."

Chandler reaches down and picks up the three bags again. "See, you'd be helping me avoid those clot things."

Monica looks down for a moment and thinks about what he said. "Okay!" She reaches out to hold open the door and smiles as she follows him inside.

* * *

**July 27****th**** 1991**

Monica had just finished polishing the furniture in her apartment and was contemplating doing her windows or cabinets next when her phone rings.

"Hello?"

"Hey, I'm leaving work and I was going to pick up some Chinese food. Do you want me to bring you any?"

Monica purses her lips and then sneers at the receiver. "How do you know I don't have a hot date tonight."

"Because it's Friday and you're probably dusting the tops of your kitchen cabinets right now."

Monica looks down at the duster in her hands and quickly tosses it on the floor. "I could have a hot date if I wanted!"

"Of course, you could. Look, how about after we eat, we go down and have a drink at the bar. Maybe we'll both get lucky and find hot dates for next Friday."

Monica starts to tap her foot as a skeptical look washes over her face. "Where are you getting the food from."

"I'm going to get it at that place on Houston and not from the place on the corner. Just like you told me."

Monica smiles triumphantly and then bites her lower lip. "Okay, sounds good."

* * *

**August 9****th**** 1991**

"Monica come here! Quick!"

Monica, startled by Chandler's almost frantic tone, races across the hall and into apartment 19. "What the matter?" With a worried look on her face she quickly scans the room.

Chandler, standing up on the couch with the lid to a pot in one hand and a flyswatter in the other, turns towards her but then immediately looks back. His eyes nervously darting around the room. "There is a large thing in here flying around. I think it's a bat!" Just then, a large shadow flutters across the floor. Chandler looks down and points. "See! See! It is a minion of the devil come to take me away!"

Monica furrows her brow and looks up at the ceiling near the light and points up. "It's just a moth making a shadow." She walks over and snatches the flyswatter from Chandler's grasp and quickly dispatches of the insect. Picking it up off the floor with a tissue from a box on the counter. She hands him the tissue and shakes her head. "Good night Rambo."

"Well. It was a very big moth!"

* * *

**August 18****th**** 1991**

Monica points at a washing machine in the laundry room. "Never use this machine, it eats all your quarters, I've been trying to get Treeger to fix this for months."

Chandler nods and starts to fill the machine with his clothes. The two of them stand close together as the small laundry room fills with very little light from the few scattered naked bulbs that are hanging from the ceiling. "Okay, now I put this in?"

Monica looks over at him and shakes her head. "That's the wrong kind of detergent. No wonder your clothes always look wrinkled and shabby."

"Shabby? Woman I will have you know that I was voted best dressed in my high school year book. Granted, we all wore the same uniform, but still. It counts."

Monica tries to suppress a smile and pulls her laundry bottle up. "Here use mine today. Tomorrow we're going to buy you your own. And always get the one with the easy pour spout so you don't spill any. Nothing worse than a sticky washing machine." She takes the detergent and fills the three machines that they have their clothes in.

"Now what?"

Monica looks over at him incredulously. "Now we wait for it to finish and then use the dryer. You really never did your own laundry before?"

"Well, in high school we had a laundry service and after that I just used drop off service."

"Must be nice not having to do things for yourself."

"I had to carry the bag." Chandler walks over to an oversized, threadbare chair in the back of the room and sits down. He reaches over to the tray next to it and grabs a magazine, opening it to read. Monica walks over and squeezes next to him in the chair. "What are we reading?"

"People magazine from…" he looks at the cover to find the date. "…August 1986."

Monica laughs and points at the cover article. "Ooo, that sounds fun. I wonder if Pierce Brosnan gets out of his TV contract so he can play James Bond."

"Only one way to find out!" Chandler opens the magazine and Monica leans up next to him and holds the other side as they start to read together, pointing and laughing as they huddle close enough to share it as they wait for their laundry to finish.

* * *

**August 28****th**** 1991**

"Ow! Don't you at least turn these off first?" Chandler steps off the stool and shakes his hand, blowing on them in an attempt to subside the burning sensation pulsating through his fingertips.

"I don't know. These three bulbs just blew out."

"Why didn't you tell me that. We need to wait to let them cool down."

"Wait? But then they wouldn't get replaced. Come on Nancy, there's three more of these out in the spare bedroom." Monica holds up a box of bulbs and gestures with them for him to get back to work.

Chandler shakes his head and climbs back up the stool as he tentatively reaches for the next dead light bulb. "This is technically considered abuse you knw."

* * *

**September 6****th**** 1991**

Chandler storms into Monica's apartment with two cellophane wrapped packages of clothes strung over his shoulder. "Mon! I picked up your dress from the dry cleaners but I am afraid to put it down anywhere and get yelled at for doing it wrong."

Monica walks out of her bathroom, wearing a tightly closed red and black robe. "Just give it to me so I can hang it up. Is that your tux?" Chandler nods. "Better give that to me too, we only have a week until Ross' wedding. You can do a lot of damage in a week."

Chandler mocks a laugh and then grimaces at her as he hands her both items, reluctantly nodding in agreement. "So, any luck on the roommate front?"

"No. You?"

"Well, there was this one guy who seemed okay. He is going to come around again next week after the wedding to look again."

"Is he cute?"

"Am I gay?"

Monica laughs and then stomps over towards her bedroom. "Chandler. I am never going to find a roommate."

"Yeah you will. You just have to loosen up a bit on your criteria."

She turns to face him and wrinkles her brow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I believe you told me you were looking for a woman in her twenties who was clean, neat, organized and appreciated the value of rules. Who could that be?" He places his hands on her shoulders and walks her towards the mirror on the wall next to her bathroom. He points at Monica's reflection. "Oh my goodness! I think I found her!"

Monica squeezes her lips together and shakes her head. "You're such a jerk."

"Well. If we can't find roommates maybe you and me live together."

The two of them start to laugh uncontrollably and Monica puts her hand on his chest for support. "Oh man. Like we could ever live together."

* * *

**September 13****th**** 1991**

Monica enters Chandler's apartment, holding his tux. She walks over towards his bedroom and finds a spot in the closet to hang it. She bends down and starts to rifle through the shoes at the bottom until she finds a pair of black dress shoes. She holds them up in the light for a moment and then grabs a tissue from his night stand. She bunches it up, licks it, and the begins to wipe at a scuff near the toe. Once she is satisfied with the state of the shoes, she places them underneath the tux. She then pushes some clothes to the side to separate them from the tuxedo so it stands out.

She stands up, a prideful look on her face, and then exits his room when she hears the front door open. She smiles as Chandler enters, a box of pizza in his hand. "I put your tux in the closet for tomorrow."

"Oh thanks. I picked us up a pizza. You hungry?" Monica nods. "I parked the rental car at the garage on Barrow."

Monica walks over and sits on one of the stools opposite Chandler at the kitchen counter. He pulls out some plates as she spins the box around and opens it. She pulls out a slice and places it on the plate he is holding and takes it from him and then pulls out another slice for him. "Oh good. I wrote down three different sets of directions. Remember, we have to get up early enough so you can drop me off at Carol's hotel. Then you have to go to my parent's house to meet up with Ross."

Chandler puts his plate down and grabs two soda cans from the fridge, offering her a diet coke while he takes a sprite. The two of them eat in silence for a few minutes. "You know, I think I remember that from the thirty-two other times you told me."

"Oh yeah, because you're Mr. Punctual."

Chandler flashes her an insincere smile. "Channel nine is playing 'Young Frankenstein' tonight. Want to stay over and watch?"

"What time does it end? We have to leave early tomorrow."

"You know, it gets fresher every time you tell me that. I think about ten."

"Okay, maybe I'll change into my pajamas after we eat so I can go straight to bed. Unlike you, I have to do my hair when I wake up."

"I do my hair."

"If you call running a fork across your head for ten seconds 'doing your hair', then sure, you do your hair too."

* * *

**September 14****th**** 1991**

As Van Morison's "Into the Mystic" plays, the DJs voice begins to boom over the speaker. "Okay! Now let's get the rest of the bridal party on the floor to dance with the bride and groom."

Chandler turns to Carol's sister, who he had walked down the aisle with and gestures to lead her onto the dancefloor. "Actually, I was going to dance with my husband."

"Oh right. Of course." Chandler nods and watches her walk over to her husband, leaving Monica standing on her own. She looks over at him and playfully shrugs her shoulders as he looks down at his feet and draws a circle on the floor with his toes. He looks back at Monica who is swaying alone, her arms wrapped around her body, a slightly insecure look on her face.

Chandler walks over and reaches his hand out. "Come on. No reason we should be left out. I promise only to step on your toes once or twice."

Monica lets out a laugh and smiles as she takes his hand so he can pull her onto the dancefloor.

"You look very beautiful in that dress."

"Thank you. You look very handsome in a tux." She chuckles again, finding it funny that she once thought this sweet, thoughtful man was acerbic and aloof.

* * *

Chandler and Monica find themselves alone at the bridal party table. Their chairs pulled close together so they can hear each other over the music. Monica has her hand over her mouth to cover a laugh.

"…and that is why I no longer try to pick up women at a wedding. And you can't leave. You're stuck there for three more hours sitting at a table with someone who just shot you down."

Monica giggles and shakes her head. "Chandler. I never thought I would know someone who was as much of a mess as I am when it came to relationships."

Judy Geller walks over and places her hand on Monica's shoulder and leans in, whispering softly into her ear. "Monica, can I speak with you for a minute?"

Monica nods and looks over at Chandler, raising one finger to gesture that she would be right back. He offers her a smile and turns to grab a glass of water from the table.

Judy pulls Monica towards the dancefloor and points across to a short, sweaty man in an ill fitted suit. "Do you see that man? That's Carol's cousin George. He's single. I thought maybe you two would hit it off."

Monica narrows her eyes to get a better look at the man her mother was pointing at. "Really mother?"

"What? I think you two have a lot in common. He's a C.P.A. darling."

Monica folds her arms and taps her foot on the floor impatiently. "Okay, tell me three things we have in common."

"Well, you're both single." Judy pauses and looks out into the room. "You're both at this wedding." She pauses again, searching her mind for something to say. "Did I mention you're both single?"

"Yes mom." Monica turns and see Chandler sitting alone at his table, pretending to play the drums with two butter knives until one of them slips from his grasp and bounces across the table. He ducks his head and looks around to make sure no one noticed. Monica can't help but smile and laugh. At least he is still immature. "Mom, if you don't have anything else for me, I'd like to go back and join my friend who I was actually having fun with."

"Who? Chandler? I thought he was Ross' friend."

"Yes. Chandler." She turns one more time to look at him. "He's my friend too."

* * *

A/N – Okay, I normally don't do notes in this story, but I wanted to clean up some timeline stuff. The show contradicts itself between "TOW the Flashback" and "TOW All the Thanksgivings".

Here is my timeline:

August 1986 – Pierce Brosnan People magazine cover story (I googled it!)

1987 – Chandler meets Monica/Monica & Rachel go to Ross' college party

1988 – Monica cuts off Chandler's toe

1991 – Chandler & Ross graduate/Chandler moves into the building/Ross marries Carol/Kip moves in

1992 –Phoebe Moves in/Kip moves out/events from "TOW the Flashback" occur/Joey puts a turkey on his head

I decided Chandler moving into the building in 1991 makes sense because Monica would be 21 (probably the youngest age I can see someone living alone in Manhattan) and that was the graduating year of the class reunion Ross and Chandler went to in "TOW the Stripper Cries". It made more sense to me that would also be the year Ross gets married. "TOW All the Thanksgivings" has 1992 when Joey puts a Turkey on his head, but I decided to ignore that. Joey and Phoebe told that story, they aren't reliable enough to remember the exact year!

Sorry if this was a bit longer than these Pre-Mondler chapters normally are.


	20. The Game Gets Old

**The Game Gets Old**

"…but you will always be the guy that peed on me!"

In almost one full motion, Chandler releases Monica from his grasp, rapidly pats her hands and then pulls his own hands back across the table as he grabs the cards to shuffle for the next game.

Monica smirks and looks up at her friend, studying his face while he concentrates on haphazardly mixing the cards up. Flashes of kindness in his eyes between the rush of embarrassment over being reminded about the events that had occurred last weekend at the beach. She gives herself an imperceptible nod, acknowledging how lucky she is to have this man as her friend. She has always felt this way, but never more so than in this moment. "I do want to thank you though."

Chandler does not look up at her and instead concentrates on the cards in his hands. He allows a crooked smile to unconsciously form on his lips. "Thank me? For what?"

Monica can't help but smile as she studies his features. His kind face, his sharp nose, his blue eyes, his brown hair which lightened a bit from all the sun. He is at his best in these moments, when he isn't searching his mind for the next joke or wrestling with his own demons about dating and his future. In these moments, Monica can remember why she initially had a small crush on him all those years ago. "For this weekend. I was feeling pretty down about everything and how it ended with Pete and I appreciate you trying to help me get my mind off it. Instead of being miserable the entire time, I had fun hanging out with you."

Chandler looks up at her and wrinkles his brow, trying to look insulted. "This weekend had nothing to do with cheering you up. I was defending my honor!" He puffs out his chest and starts to deal the cards. "I would be a fantastic boyfriend."

Monica, easily picking up on Chandler's false bravado can't help but laugh. "Your honor?"

"Okay, maybe not my honor. Dignity? Pride?" Chandler allows a sly smile to cross his lips as he finishes dealing out the cards. His face becomes still as his tone becomes tender and sincere. "You're welcome. You don't deserve to feel bad about yourself."

Monica smiles in triumph at so easily getting him to admit his "boyfriend material" obsession was just to keep her mind off of her most recent break-up. She stares at him again, feeling immense gratitude, knowing that without his incessant pestering she would have melted into a pool of depression about yet another failed relationship. She reaches out to halt Chandler's motions so that they look at each other. Their eyes meet as she tries to conveys her sincerity with her gaze. Thankful for having someone in her life who knew exactly what she needed without being asked to provide it. "I do appreciate it."

Chandler smiles and they separate again, both of them returning their attention to the cards. "You know, for future reference, that's the kind of stuff women look for in a man. Maybe you aren't hopeless after all in the boyfriend material department."

Chandler sits back and takes a swig from his Yoohoo. "How are you doing with the whole Pete thing?"

Monica slides her cards down and places them on the table. She looks off to the side as she carefully considers her answer. Almost afraid of what she might admit. "I don't think my bad mood was even about Pete."

"No? I mean, you dumped a millionaire."

"I know. It's just, I think I still had this nagging feeling that he wasn't right for me. I'm trying to miss him, but really, I don't. I know I got swept up in the idea that he might have been proposing before he went all crazy with that ultimate fighting stuff, but I honestly don't know what my answer would have been if he did ask me to marry him." She traces a circle on the table with her finger, not able to look up, as if making eye contact with Chandler would stop her from being able to express herself honestly. "I get a little scared when I think about it. What if he did propose and I said yes."

"That scares you? Really? I thought you loved him."

Monica looks down again at her hands. "I think maybe I tried to convince myself I did. Even up to the very end. That liking him was just as good as loving him. I don't know. When I think about him right now, there's nothing there. Can you imagine if we were engaged and I felt like this? I might have turned into Rachel! Running away and stumbling into the Perk looking to hide."

Chandler smirks at the memory of when Rachel reappeared in their lives almost four years ago. "Wow. Monica Geller running out on her own wedding would be a sign of the apocalypse."

Monica picks up her cards and tries to fight a smile at his remark, but as quickly as it appears, it fades away. "Chandler, do you realize that before Pete my last serious boyfriend was Richard. There wasn't one guy in-between that either I had strong feelings for or that wanted something meaningful with me."

Chandler looks down at his cards, trying to hide the sympathy in his eyes. "Mon, that's not true…"

"Yeah it is. Think about it. And before Richard, it wasn't any picnic either. I think I just let myself fall into this thing with Pete because I feel like I have been waiting so long for someone to want to be with me for more than just a few nights." Monica drops her cards and shakes her head. Her mood turning from the playful one she had just moments ago to a frustrated melancholy.

"Well, don't look at me. It's too late now. You had your shot but you wounded my pride and now I'm going to go out with Bonnie."

Monica sits up straight and shoots a bewildered look at him. "What?"

"Oh yeah. I called her. I always wanted to know what Lex Luthor looked like with boobs."

Monica starts to laugh uncontrollably and has to stand up to catch her breath. She wipes a tear from her eye, "Oh man. Thanks. I needed that."

Chandler hops up from his seat and walks over to her. He gently places his hand on her shoulder. "Don't ever settle Mon. You deserve to be really happy, and I would hate to see you settle for a guy, even one as nice and rich as Pete was."

"Does it make me a bad person? That I don't really miss him. That I just miss having a boyfriend. I miss having someone who wants to be with me all the time." Monica shakes her head and looks down. "I just don't want to date anymore. Dating is getting so old. Trying to meet someone, going to dinner and out for drinks just to figure out if you even like the guy. Then you think you do, but he isn't who you thought he was. I wish I could skip dating all together and just jump into that beginning part of a relationship, where you know the person is who you want to be with and they want to be with you. You can just enjoy being together and experiencing all those new feelings with them."

Chandler steps away from Monica and walks over to the refrigerator. He opens it and pulls out a bottle of water. "Oh, I know. You realize if it wasn't for Janice, I would have had no relationships. And dating? Have you seen a woman who wants to go out with me more than once?" He notices Monica's mood darken as he joins her in complaining and he decides to quickly shift gears. "It seems women only want me for my body. I guess that's just my burden to bear."

Monica exhales out a few chuckles, closes the distance between them and reaches out to touch Chandler's chest. "This body?"

"I will have you know, underneath these clothes lies the body of a very unhealthy nine-year old girl."

Monica laughs again and sits back down in her chair. Shaking her head. Chandler joins her and picks his cards back up. "What are we playing again?"

"Gin."

"Do you have any gin? Maybe this would be more fun as a drinking game."

Monica screws up her face, mocking outrage. "Are you saying I'm not fun?" Chandler shrinks in his chair and sputters his words as he tries to think of something to say. Monica exudes smug satisfaction as she starts to arrange the cards in her hands while he appears tongue-tied. She peers over her cards at him again. "I mean it though. Thanks. You were the only one really trying to cheer me up. Everyone else had their own thing going on. You could have easily just hung out with Joey all weekend instead of focusing on me."

Chandler nods as a prideful look flashes across his face. He indulges in a satisfied half-smile, reveling in her acknowledgment. "It was my pleasure. You're a lot of fun when you aren't telling me what to do." Monica returns his words with a screwed-up face, pretending to mock him. "I'm serious though Mon. You're going to end up with a guy who is crazy about you and you're going to be crazy about him too. And one day you're going to come running up to me to tell me all about how you finally found that guy and how happy you are. All this stuff will be a distant memory."

"I know." Monica looks at her friend one more time, who is already concentrating on his cards. She acknowledges internally to herself, that she was wrong about him during their weekend at the beach, and that in fact, yes, Chandler Bing is boyfriend material. And one day he is going to make someone very happy. She quietly repeats herself, allowing a smile to spread across her lips as she returns her attention to their card game. "I know."


	21. Let My Love Open the Door

**Let My Love Open the Door**

**Thanksgiving 1987**

"I just don't want to be stuck here all night with your fat sister."

"Hey!"

Chandler winces immediately at Ross' reaction to his careless insult of his sister. He did not really think about what he was saying, and the words fell off his tongue before he could stop them. Lately, it has been a reflex for him to go for the easy barb. To blurt out a harsh, cutting remark with the intent to entertain. Yet, he can't help but wonder, why now? Why would he say something like that about his friend's sister? Right in front of him, no less. Chandler can feel the hairs on his neck stand up, the sensation that someone else was there watching him, sending shivers down his spine. He looks over his shoulder, but no one is there. Confirming that he and Ross are still alone in the kitchen.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. Just, you know, we have these awesome IDs. We can go out and meet actual adult women. I didn't come all this way so I could spend the night at your house playing board games with some girl who still goes to high school. No offense."

Ross eyes Chandler for a moment, considering his defensive apology. He finally nods as he puts his hand on Chandler's shoulder, patting it reassuringly as he mouths "oh" and nods. "I get it."

Chandler takes a close look at his friend to study his reaction, and as he sees the tension leave Ross's face, he becomes confident his excuse worked. He still feels terrible about it though. He has made a few comments tonight that he probably wishes he could take back, but thankfully, it does not seem as anyone had noticed. It is something that has become a bad habit of his over the last couple of months. He can't seem help it though. Saying mean things about people as a joke is almost his default setting at this point.

Chandler has worked so hard to become a new version of himself ever since he escaped high school. He wanted to leave behind the taunts about his father's outrageous behavior that caused him no small amount of torture from his classmates. He wanted to run away from the salacious comments his mother's vocation would induce from his teammates on the swim team. Most of all, he wanted to leave behind the kid who felt self-conscious about himself all the time.

He spent his senior year sharpening his wit until it was a cold, steel blade of merciless sarcasm, ready to be unsheathed when he reach his college campus. He practiced by making jokes at his own expense before anyone else could, mastering a disarming yet effective self-deprecating style of defense against even the most vile of bullies. As a side effect, it seems to have calloused over his insecurities, making it easier to deal with the reality that was his life.

In that last year of high school, he knew he just had to make it to college. A fresh start. He could be somebody totally different. Somebody new. Somebody people wanted to get to know and be around all the time. The minute he broke free from the suffocating conformity that was his all-boy prep academy, he changed his entire look. His hair, his clothes, his walk, how he talked; everything. He was going to be a rock star at college. Make new friends, meet all kinds of girls. He was going to rule the school. Goodbye Chandler Muriel Bing and hello Chandler M. Bing!

Only, it did not exactly happen that way. His jokes didn't win him over any new friends. His style didn't seem to impress the ladies. Sure, no one knew who he was before he got to college, but it also seemed like no one was that interested in finding out who he had become since he got there. He was lucky enough to get a roommate that he got along with. Someone who he could actually, eventually call a friend.

And now, here he is, feeling sick to his stomach upon seeing how that friend reacted to his offhanded comment that was supposed to elicit a laugh. And in this one awkward moment between them, Chandler sees who he really has become in his strive to be born anew. He has become this person whose sardonic wit was no longer pointed at himself, but aimed at everyone else around him. Apparently, along with his insecurities, his empathy has also gotten calloused over by the constant jokes he would make about his own shortcomings. He had forgotten how painful it was to be on the receiving end of someone else's humiliating remark. He has now transformed into one of those idiots from high school that he had been running away from all semester. His only saving grace is that Ross' dad wasn't there to hear him insult his daughter, or even worse, his sister to hear it herself. Thankfully though, it seems Ross is already forgetting about what he said, focusing more on his plans to woo Rachel. Chandler can probably put it out of his mind as well, knowing that there was no real harm done. Although, he now has this nagging feeling that if he continues to be this new version of Chandler Bing and not who he really is, then he may never feel safe being himself around another person ever again.

* * *

Monica, upon hearing Ross' roommate spit out the words "fat sister" so dismissively, took off as fast as she could from the entranceway of the kitchen to her bedroom upstairs. She was instantly a mess, feeling some combination of angry, depressed and betrayed. She doesn't even know why his words bothered her so much. It isn't the first time someone called her fat. It isn't the first time some boy only saw her for who she was on the outside. It definitely won't be the last time either. So, why does it hurt so much this time? Maybe it hurts, because, in some misguided way, she thought Chandler was different. When she remembered why she had assumed he was, she realized that it was a stupid reason, and that she was stupid girl to think that he would be any different than any other boy.

Ever since she was a little girl and got her first easy-bake oven, Monica had a dream to become a real live chef. Making up her own recipes, using only the best ingredients, wowing everyone with her culinary skills, receiving awards and compliments on her amazing food. She wanted to be like Julia Child. Julia didn't care what she looked like. It didn't matter if she was overweight. She was confident. She was strong. She was a master at her craft and she was on television and everyone knew who she was.

Unfortunately, being a little fat girl who wants to cook food for a living was too much for her to admit to. Especially in high school. She kept this part of herself hidden, even from her family, fearful of her brother's jokes or her mother's disapproval. She was certain that even her best friend would never understand why it was so important to her. Instead, ever since she started her junior year, she had been sneaking pamphlets from all of the culinary schools in New York, home from her guidance counselor's office. Researching and organizing them in order of her preferred school to her last desperate hope at her dream.

No one noticed that she took Home Economics as an elective four years in a row. No one noticed that she filled out application forms for these schools at the dining room table, forging her mother's signature. No one ever saw the recipe books she had hidden in a box under her bed. No one knew that she read "The French Chef" cover-to-cover at least ten times.

Being a chef was her dream. It was her secret. It was something she never felt secure enough in to share with anyone. It was lonely to hide something you were so passionate about, but the alternative would be so much worse. She just knew it would. And then, without any prompting, Ross' friend spoke the words out lout to her. "You should be a chef." And it was like someone saw her for the first time. Like he read her mind. Like he could see into her soul. She could only gush out an over exuberant "Okay!" in response. Too thrilled with the idea that maybe, just maybe, she might have someone to confide in. Even if he were a stranger she had just met that night.

She allowed herself to daydream and imagine, what if he came around more during the winter break, and she could talk to him about it as she served him other dishes she had made. She could share this special part of herself with someone who wouldn't think she was being crazy or throwing away a chance at a good education to simply learn how to cook. After all it was his idea and they were his words; she certainly didn't disclose anything to him. He couldn't judge her for taking his advice. Maybe he would even encourage her. This cute boy her brother had brought around. She could show him the pamphlets. Talk about her future. She could finally share this little private part of herself with someone.

But then she walked into the kitchen and she realized that he wasn't special or intuitive or some mind reader. He was just like everyone else. He only saw a fat girl that he couldn't be bothered to get to know. He probably didn't even mean it when he said she could be a chef. It was probably just another joke at her expense. Another person who would laugh at her if she told him the truth. Just when she thought she could open up to someone. Just when she thought she could be herself. Just when she thought it was safe. Instead, she learned a harsh lesson, that she may never feel safe being herself around another person ever again.

* * *

**Ross & Carol's Wedding 1991**

The DJ's voice bellows through the speakers in the catering hall, grabbing Monica's attention immediately. "All right everybody. This is the last song of the night. Why don't we all join the bride and groom on the dancefloor one last time!"

"Oh no. The last song. Come on Chandler. It's bad luck not to dance to the last song at a wedding." Monica stands up and grabs Chandler by the hand, pulling him reluctantly out of his chair as the opening bars of "I Can't Help Falling in Love with You" starts to play.

Chandler huffs out a laugh and smirks. "I didn't realize how much power DJ Neglectful wielded."

Monica turns back towards him as they reach the edge of the dancefloor and she gently places her arms around his neck. Her brow wrinkles in confusion as she offers him a bemused look. "DJ who?"

Chandler places his hands on her hips and motions with his head for her to look in the direction of the DJ equipment. "Look at that kid over there. He's been helping the DJ all night. He has to be his son. I can spot a child of divorce a mile away. This must be his weekend with his father. I wouldn't be surprised if their stage names was 'DJ Neglectful' and his assistant 'I call mom's new husband Dad'."

Monica shakes her head. "Don't ruin the mood." Chandler smiles and nods in submission. Monica looks around the room and then back at her dance partner. "Can you believe that Ross is married?"

Chandler chuckles lightly. "I know. When I first met Ross, I thought he would never get married. I mean, that mustache."

Monica laughs. "I can't believe they pulled off planning this entire wedding in six months. That's so fast."

"Really?"

"I've been planning mine for the last nine years."

Chandler rolls his eyes sarcastically. "Wow. Congrats to that lucky groom."

Monica purses her lips and shakes her head as she tries to stifle a laugh. She turns and looks off to the side and sees two of her youngest cousins, no more than four or five, dancing together and her eyes soften as her heart feels like it will burst out of her chest. "Awww." Chandler looks over and smiles. Their eyes return to each other. "Can't you just not wait to have some of your own."

Chandler winces. "Oooo. I'm not sure a Bing should be trusted with the well-being of a child."

Monica allows an audible "tsk" to escape her lips. She turns her head to the two children again and gestures towards them. "Are you saying you wouldn't want a little girl?"

Chandler flattens his lips as if he were tasting something bitter. "No thank you. At least with a boy, I only have to worry about his penis. With a girl, I would have to worry about all the penises."

Monica shakes her head. "Oh stop."

"It's true. Think of all the penises you have known that ended up being attached to a total jerk."

Monica looks up and nods, but then catches herself. "Hey! What do you mean 'all the penises I have known'? How many penises do you think I've been around? What are you trying to say?"

Chandler eyes widen and he shifts nervously as he stammers for a few seconds, eliciting a satisfied laugh from Monica. He flashes her a half-smile as she rests her head on his shoulder and they dance quietly for a few moments. He clears his throat and looks down at her. "Are you staying out here tonight or do you need a ride back to the city?"

Monica lifts her head and searches the room. She finally spies her parents, who appear to be fawning over Carol and her brother. She twists her face up a bit at the idea of having to listen to them gush about the wedding all night. She scans the rest of the room, her cousins ignored her for most of the night, joining them for a late-night drink after the reception didn't seem like a good idea either. Sitting alone at the end of some Long Island bar while they all blather on about their lives, showing no interest in hers.

She then looks back up at Chandler. She knows they will probably have fun on the ride home, making jokes and listening to music. Later on she would probably be able to get into some comfortable clothes, they could have a drink, watch a movie, relax, enjoy a late snack and laugh all night and then she would be able to sleep in her own bed. That sounded like a great ending to this day. She smiles sweetly at him and nods. "Yeah, I think I'll go home with you tonight instead of taking the train tomorrow morning."

Chandler nods back and as the song concludes they break apart and start clapping. "Well, I guess that's it. It's official now."

"I think it was official back at the ceremony when they both said 'I do'." She playfully elbows him on the side as they both look out into the crowd that is shuffling around the room. "Thanks for hanging out with me during the wedding. I had a lot of fun."

"Well, it's not like I had a hot date or anything." He looks down at her sideways as he jokingly wiggles his eyebrows.

"You know what? I like this Chandler a lot. He is much better than the one I first met."

"Well you know what they say. Fifth time's the charm." Monica giggles a bit and leans up against him to take some of her weight off of her tired feet. Chandler looks down at her as her attention is elsewhere and allows a warm smile to spread across his lips. "I like Monica a lot too."

They share another playful shove with each other and look out towards the newly married couple who are shaking hands, hugging family members, and saying goodbye to their guests. Monica and Chandler stand there for a few moments, both smiling. Both content in the knowledge that they are finally able to be themselves around someone else, and that they both feel safe.


	22. It's Time

**It's Time**

As Chandler makes his way up the stairs to his apartment, he can hear yelling coming from somewhere above him. He grimaces as he dwells on his suspicions of who may be disturbing this peaceful Sunday evening with their knockout, drag-down shouting match. It isn't until he finally reaches his floor when his suspicions are confirmed.

Monica and Kip are fighting again.

He can't make out exactly what they are saying, but he knows it can't be anything good. The couple that seemed to start out so well a few months ago, has devolved into some kind of relationship cliché. Barely able to spend more than a few minutes alone before the bickering begins. The honeymoon phase officially over as they fast-forwarded to what Chandler likes to call "The Bing-light Phase", because compared to some of his parent's brawls, this is tame in comparison.

He shakes his head and quickly searches his pockets for his keys. All he wants to do now is get inside his own apartment as quickly as possible and lock himself in his bedroom so he doesn't have to deal with the inevitable fallout of whatever today's crisis is. Knowing that if he is standing out in the hallway when the door to her place swings open, he will get dragged into their conflict and forced to pick a side. Just as they have done to him all week.

He finally finds his key and clumsily sticks it in the lock, swinging it open and closing it behind him. He breathes out a sigh of relief as he leans against his door and tosses his keys into the bowl on the counter.

Chandler isn't even sure what could have gone wrong with the two of them. Everything seemed to be going great when they first started dating. He even thought that maybe they could be falling for each other. They were together every day since they first hooked up. She would make breakfast at her place, then when Kip came home from work, they would have dinner. They were happy, or so he thought.

Even the new dynamic to their little group was working. Kip got along with Ross, Carol and even Monica's new roommate Phoebe. The six of them were always hanging out together, if not in Monica's apartment, then they would be down at the bar or at the diner around the corner. It never felt weird having a new couple in the group. Especially since it was a new couple formed out of two people from the group, which can normally become a very dicey situation. And yet, the two of them never made anyone feel like a third wheel, and everyone thought they were good together. Most importantly, everyone could still hang out and have fun. It was as if nothing changed.

Lately though, it seems they can't be in the same room for too long without one of them grousing about something the other had done or said. Bickering and pushing each other's buttons. It was making everyone uncomfortable. Ross and Carol started to come around less often, especially when they knew both Kip and Monica would be there. The Gellers trying to do their best to avoid the uncomfortable scene that promised to come almost every night. Even Phoebe was spending more time at her grandmother's apartment. It seemed locking herself in her room was not a suitable sanctuary from their spats, as Monica would drag her out to complain once Kip left.

Standing in his kitchen, Chandler wishes he had somewhere to hide out himself, but that is simply not the case. Which means, whichever one of the two lovebirds finds him first, would try and get him on their side. He hates the thought of that. He does not want to have to choose between his friends. He thought once his parents got divorced and he graduated high school he would never have to be a pawn in some couple's fight ever again.

Chandler gets knocked out of his daydream as he hears Monica yell, "What did you just say!" loud enough to carry through two heavy New York City apartment doors. He knows the fight is just about over and he only has a few more minutes before Kip comes storming out of her apartment. Chandler decides he does not want to be seen by his seething roommate who will want to share all the details of tonight's fight.

He quickly opens the fridge and pulls out a beer. He twists out of his coat, getting his arm stuck, and throws it on the floor near the couch as he makes a run for his bedroom. Just a few more steps to safe, blissful ignorance. Unfortunately, in his haste, he stumbles over the leg of the couch and falls to the floor, his beer bottle drops and rolls under the sofa. As he reaches to grab it, the door to his apartment swings open with great force as Kip comes stomping into the apartment. Huffing and throwing his keys down recklessly on the kitchen counter.

He looks over and makes eye contact with Chandler, who is still on the floor with his arm under the couch. Kip shakes off his roommate's odd condition and opens the refrigerator door to take out a beer.

"That's it man. We are done. It is over."

Chandler, despite himself, couldn't help but respond to his roommate's declaration. "Woah, what? Over? Did you guys just break up?"

"As far as I am concerned. I can't do this anymore. I'm tapping out."

Chandler gets up and walks over to the kitchen counter. He gestures incredulously with his hands as he stammers, unable to find any words. Kip makes a face at his roommate's strange gesticulations and shakes his head as he opens a beer and sits down.

Finally able to find his voice, all Chandler can come up with is a weak, nondescript, "What? Why?"

Kip runs his hands through his hair. He exhales loudly expressing his frustration.

"She is too much man."

Chandler looks at him, a nonplussed expression on his face.

"She's changed since we started dating. She used to be this fun, hot girl who loved to fool around and hang out. She was funny and up for a good time. Now it's all rules and I'm doing this wrong or I'm not using a coaster or my shoes are dirty. They're shoes, man. They're supposed to be dirty!"

Chandler can't help but chuckle and shake his head. Thinking to himself, _"Monica does hate dirty shoes."_

Kip, not noticing Chandler's amused reaction, slips from the chair he was sitting at and begins to pace the room.

"She was never like this when we first started dating. Now she's all…she's just…well, she's really just too high maintenance. Why can't she just go back to being the girl I met when I moved in. I have never had a problem like this with a woman before. I flash a smile; we fall into bed and it's easy. Casual. No rules, no 'where is this going' crap."

Chandler, finally unable to control himself, places his hand on Kip's shoulder.

"That's always who she has been. That's the only Monica I know."

Kip shakes his head vehemently. "No way. If you had to deal with what I have to deal with, you would understand. Just be thankful you never have to date her. Could you imagine living with her. I mean, no offense. I know you've known her for a while and you are friends with her brother, but she can be a real bitch."

"Hey!" Chandler, without even realizing how angry he was becoming, jabs his finger into Kip's chest. "She's my friend too. You know, you could do a lot worse than Monica Geller. She's smart and she cares about people and even when you don't want her to, she looks out for you. She always has her friends' best interest at heart. I'm sorry if you're upset because everyone normally falls at your feet because you're so handsome and you have perfectly coifed hair, but don't take it out on her." Chandler grabs his keys and coat roughly and walks towards the door. "You know, she is amazing, and you're going to throw that away because she wants you to use a coaster?"

Kip stands up and gestures for Chandler to calm down.

"I'm sorry. I know she is your friend and I shouldn't have said that. But man, you really don't know her like I do. You don't know what she is like as a girlfriend. It is a nightmare. If she doesn't calm it down, she will never be able to hold onto a man. No one could handle that, no matter how hot she is."

Chandler shakes his head and opens the door.

"Wow. Well, some of us don't have spare girls lying around like you where we can afford to just toss away one of the good ones."

Kip screws up his face in confusion.

"What are you talking about? You wouldn't go out with a girl on a second date because you said she smelled like soup."

"That was different. That was just some girl. This is Monica."

"Dude. Monica is just some girl."

"You know, you can be a real jerk sometimes." Chandler almost spits with his words and spins away from Kip.

As he exits the apartment, he can hear Kip reply, "Hey, that's what she just said to me right before I walked out." Chandler slams the door shut and puts his coat on in the hallway.

He hesitates for a moment and looks at the door to apartment 20 across the hall. He walks over and places his hand on the knob, intent on walking in to see how Monica is doing. He looks down at his hand and shakes his head, realizing he is not the guy people want to see when they are in need of a shoulder to cry on. _"I'm the last person she probably wants to talk to right now."_

He let's go of the door and turns to walk back downstairs. Opting to take a walk to clear his head instead.

As he steps out onto the street, he can't help but hear Kip's words reverberate in his mind. _"You don't know her like I do."_

Chandler scoffs.

_"Yeah. I don't know Monica. With her lists and her chores and her rules. She thinks a fun night is reorganizing a book case. She the type of person who, after we play a game of gin, has to put all the cards in order before she puts them away. She has five different types of soap for guests. I once saw her gush about the fact that the phonebook is in alphabetical order. She bought me a binder when I started my new job and whenever she sees it lying around my apartment, she moves it back into my briefcase and asks it if I am treating it well. She's crazy, but she's the best. She also brings you soup when you're sick and she makes sure you're ready for a job interview and she makes doctor's appointments for you and asks if you need an extra pillow when you fall asleep on her couch. I can't believe he doesn't realize that this is who Monica is. All of it. This is who she has always been. She is the whole awesome, kind, caring, scary, loud, crazy package. Maybe because everything has always been so easy for Kip he just can't see all this stuff. Or maybe he's an ass."_

"I don't understand. I mean, am I so hard to live with? Is this why I don't have a boyfriend."

Chandler hadn't thought about Kip much since he moved out, but now, as he looks at his sad, vulnerable friend, all he can hear is Kip's words from when they broke up.

"No! You don't have a boyfriend because…"

He decides in this moment that he will never tell her what Kip had said. She doesn't need to hear her worst fears about who she is and why she is alone reinforced because some jerk they used to know thought she was high maintenance.

"…I don't, I don't know why you don't have a boyfriend."

He knows that she doesn't deserve to feel bad about herself. Not now. Not ever. He makes a promise to himself as he walks across the apartment, that he will never let his friend feel like this again without trying to cheer her up. She deserves all these things that she wants. The boyfriend, the great job, the future she dreams about, she deserves all of it.

"You should have a boyfriend."

"I think so."

He reminds himself that Kip was an ass. How could he have been such an idiot to throw this woman away.

"Oh-ho, come here."

He wraps his arms around her and while it makes him feel guilty, he smiles. Moments like this lets him know how lucky he is, how he is almost special in a way. Someone that he thinks so highly of trusts him enough to be this vulnerable with him. She feels so completely comfortable with him, that he gets to see her true self. As she sinks into his hug he realizes again, for what seems like the millionth time, why she is his best friend.

"Listen, you are one of my favorite people and the most beautiful woman I have ever known in real life."

He senses her entire body relax at that, and he allows her to rest in his arms. This strong, powerful woman who is still harboring insecurity, just like him. He wonders if that is why they get along so well, both of them recognizing the need to be accepted for who they truly are. Both of them searching for validation. Both of them just wanting to be reassured that they are worthy of love.

So, no; he will never tell her why Kip broke up with her, or what he said. She doesn't need to change who she is to find the right guy. The right guy will see that all those peculiar idiosyncrasies that make up who this woman is, are worth dealing with to get to the good stuff. She'll find him. She will find her happily ever after. He knows she will. Just like she found these unbelievably soft towels.


	23. This & That

**This & That**

Chandler gleefully flung his robe across the room with reckless abandon and sunk back down into his bed. He felt a powerfully intoxicating sense of triumph over Monica. He stretched out and pulled the covers up to his chin, rolling over on his side with a blissful smile on his face as he closed his eyes. _"There will be no working out today my friend!"_

Although, even Chandler, in his pursuit of the perfect, lazy morning, had to admit to himself that it was a low blow he struck in order to knock Monica down for the count. Manipulating her and getting her feeling so down about herself that she lost her momentum and welcomed drifting off into oblivion on his couch. He did warn her though. She sort of brought this upon herself. She was going insane with power. Enough was enough. Drastic measures were necessary.

He thought to himself how at first, when they began to work out together with some light jogging, that it seemed to be going really well. They were having fun, he actually did feel better physically after getting a little exercise into his routine, and he thought he was even looking better too. But then she decided to extend their route, and a thirty-minute jog turned into an hour and a half long marathon. And, when he thought it was over and his legs felt as if they were made of Jello and they were completely incapable of supporting anything anymore, let alone his body weight, she shoved a racquet in his hands. Letting him know that the run was just a warm up and that they had not even begun to work out. It was madness.

The most infuriating part was that she could not leave him alone and give him time to breathe in-between tortuous physical activities. They would run through the park, then she would have him racing up the five flights of stairs back to their apartments, and once he finally got into his place and he was ready to crumple into a broken heap on the floor, she started him on push-ups and sit-ups.

He was not safe from her anywhere. It was as if Monica had radar and could find him wherever he was in the city at any time of the day. This trespass of her on his daily life was highlighted by all the times over the last few weeks when, without warning, the door to his office would swing open as a loud burst from her whistle would cut through the ever-present din that normally dominated the atmosphere of his workplace. She called it "pop quiz exercising", handing him some grip strengtheners, having him squeeze them in each hand twenty times. That would then be followed by leg lifts in his chair, or perhaps she would force him to do squats against the wall, which proved to be most entertaining to his coworkers.

Then there was the meal planning. He would come out of his bedroom and find her in his kitchen, prepping his lunches and dinners while she handed him some plain yogurt and a banana for breakfast. She even had his assistant spying on him, letting her know if he snuck in a bag of chips, a brownie, or a can of soda into his office at lunchtime. When he confronted her about it, trying to remind her that he was her boss, she simply told him that Monica scared her more than he did. And he knew she made the right choice. Monica was scarier than he could ever be.

It had to stop though. The madness had to end. He had to make it all go away so he could go back to his wonderful old life where he was sleeping in, eating whatever he wanted and had the ability to lift a newspaper without groaning in pain because of how sore his muscles were. When she showed up this morning, ready to run him ragged again, he had enough. It was the final straw.

And he vanquished her. She was defeated. He should be drifting back to sleep, warm and cozy in the glow of his triumph. It should even be commemorated in the annuls of history. How often does someone best Monica Geller?

Yet, he did not feel like celebrating, and he was not drifting back to sleep like he thought he would be. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that what he did was warranted, he started to feel terrible about it. And now, instead of sleeping, he is replaying her ridiculous song in his head, trying to remember how it went. _"We're working, we're moving, we're in the zone, we're grooving." _He couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"She is ridiculous."

She was ridiculous. Her energy level and the spark she had in her eyes while she was running him into the ground made no sense at all. No human should be programmed this way. But she was. And, he knew that without a doubt, he was not. If he were in her shoes, dealing with what she was facing, he would have collapsed on that couch weeks ago and probably would have never gotten back up again. Not Monica though, she is much too strong for that.

As he laid there, admiring her fortitude, he could not help but admit to himself, that despite all the pain in his body and all those early mornings being dragged out of his bed and all the unannounced visits where she shoved a carrot stick in his hand, he was enjoying spending time with her again. He was having fun.

Chandler sat up in bed at that thought and realized, they have not really had time alone together in almost two years. Rachel moved in a little over a year ago. Joey more than a year before that. Before that Phoebe was Monica's roommate. The entire dynamic of their friendship had been fundamentally changed and neither one of them had actually realized it when it was happening.

Before Joey and Rachel showed up, and while Ross was still married to Carol, seeing Monica morning, noon and night was a pretty common occurrence. They shared breakfast before work, met for coffee during the day, had dinners together in the evening. They were practically inseparable. They went to the movies, joined each other when they went grocery shopping, they played tennis, did laundry, and even prepped each other for dates and job interviews. They had each other's back. They had fun. And despite himself, he knew he had fun this time around as well.

Now, he definitely no longer felt like gloating, or sleeping, or even just lying there under his covers all warm and toasty. Now he had another emotion creeping in and taking over. Now he felt guilty.

Chandler shook his head and got up from out of his bed, sneaking over to the door and slowly opening it so he could take a look at Monica, who was still under a blanker on his couch. He squinted his eyes as if that would put her in focus, and he realized, she was still awake, her eyes looking up at the ceiling, almost dead and vacant.

_"Great. I broke Monica."_

He searched around in his room and pulled out a clean t-shirt and sweat shirt. He put them on as quickly as he could. He then dug around in his dresser drawers for some workout pants, but all he could find were jeans and dress pants. He looked over at his hamper and saw the pile of dirty clothes, spilling over and falling onto the floor. He started to root through the heap of clothes, smelling each pair of sweats that he could find to see if he could get away with giving them one more use. Everything was pretty well worn, still wet from sweat and they all smelled terribly.

He was not sure what he was going to do. Maybe borrow a pair from Joey? He knew that he did not want to go for a run in a pair of jeans, but the more he looked, the more frustrated he became, and he was starting to think he should abandon this plan that he had only half-cooked up. He took one more minute and tried to thoroughly look around his bedroom, at least one more time before giving up. He them found himself smiling as he spied a black pair of bike shorts on his dresser. Although the smile faded fast and he shook his head at the prospect of wearing those tight, stretchy shorts again.

"No. Uh-uh."

He snatched them and held them up in the light, as if maybe by some miracle they would turn into a clean pair of pants instead. He could not wear these. Not out in public again. Not after her reaction to seeing him jogging in place with them on in the hallway on that very first day they went for a run.

_"This was a dumb idea anyway. I'm going to go back to sleep."_

He bunched up the shorts and then went to toss them on the floor, when he was stopped dead in his tracks, all he could hear was his own voice, repeating what he told Joey the other day.

_"I'm all she's got."_

He twisted up his face as he held the shorts out again and reluctantly pulled them on, one leg at a time. Feeling as if they were constricting themselves around his thighs more and more as every second passed by.

_"I better get some kind of reward for this!"_

He stepped out into the living room and began to shake Monica, gentle at first, as he softly spoke her name. "Monica. Hey, get up. I'm ready to go on a run."

Monica dropped her gaze from the ceiling to him. A cold, dejected look on her face. "I don't think I have it in me today."

Chandler began to bounce a bit on the balls of his feet. He tried to emulate her own energized movements from just a short while ago. "Oh, but Mon. I need your help. I can't do this without you."

Monica shook her head. "You only need to lose one more pound. You could do that walking to work tomorrow. You don't need my help with that."

Chandler stopped his motions and started to stammer. "Ahh, but, uh, well, actually, I gained three pounds."

Monica sat up, she suddenly lost the melancholy in her voice and started to sound enraged and indignant. "What?"

Chandler looked around the room, trying to find something to trigger a quick response when he spied a plate on the kitchen counter with a half piece of chocolate cake still on it. No doubt the remains of a Joey Tribbiani late night snack. "Yeah, I, uh, went off the meal plan the last couple of days. Sure, ate some cake, had some beer."

Monica twisted up her face in puzzlement. "But we weighed you yesterday morning."

"Yeah, but I kind of cheated all day after that."

Monica now stood up straight off the couch, her voice became shrill and authoritative. "You what!"

Chandler instinctively backed away from her and put his hands up defensively. "Yeah, you weren't around and I fell off the wagon."

Monica started to pace the room and shook her head. "Unbelievable. This means that I can't even let you out of my sight for one minute! We are going to have to schedule every hour of your day. When you wake up, meals, exercise, showers. I might have to enlist Joey to help keep an eye on you."

Chandler lifted his eyebrows sarcastically and celebrated her plan in a monotone voice. "Oh. Yay."

Monica turned to face him and before she could say something, she looked down at his shorts. "Uh, what are you wearing?"

"My shorts."

Monica started to smile again, as if she was already formulating a way to humiliate him for wearing such a revealing pair of shorts. "Yeah, but, they're so small and stretchy." She pointed at his crotch. "They leave nothing to the imagination. I can see your dumbbell and your two weights."

Chandler sheepishly nodded his head. "Oh, well that's probably fair. Every time we work out, I make sure I am behind you so I can watch your butt wiggle."

Monica's eyes go wide and she slaps him on his arm. She smirks and then looks back down at his shorts. "Well, if you wanted to know, from what I can see, it's not that bad."

Chandler suddenly jumped back and looked down at himself proudly. "Really?"

Monica made sure to look down one more time to inspect and nodded. "I wouldn't kick it out of bed." She then turned around and started to jog in place. "But those puppies may not be street legal. So, why not put on some pants so we can get out of here and you won't be served with an indecent exposure citation."

Chandler ducked his head down slightly and winced a bit at the idea of wearing a pair of those dirty pants again. "Oh, uh, well, all my other workout clothes need to be washed. They're in pretty bad shape."

Monica turned around to face him and her brow was furrowed in stunned confusion. "You've mean to tell me that you have been letting dirty gym clothes sit in the hamper for days? Oh man. Don't you know you could get mildew like that? Your room must smell terrible right now!"

Chandler looked back at his room, slightly bemused at her reaction. "It's not that bad."

Monica jumped up and clapped her hands together loudly as an excited smile spread across her lips. "Okay, new plan. We do laundry after our run this morning. Then we clean your room. Ooo, you know what, we can have you put the laundry bags over your shoulders and then you can run up and down the stairs a few times. That'll drop those extra pounds you put on in a hurry! And then we can make vegitable smoothies! Doesn't that sound like fun?"

Chandler's mouth went flat and his lips barely moved as he offered her a very unconvincing. "Yes. That sounds like fun."


	24. Is She Really Going Out With Him?

**Is She Really Going Out With Him?**

Jack Geller could not take his eyes off the stain that was on his tie. He has spent the last five minutes trying to figure out if it was already there from a previous meal or if he had dropped some food on it during this evening's extravagant dinner. It felt dry to the touch, but he could not scratch it off with his fingernail. It was dark and might have been red at one point. He thought that maybe it was ketchup or marinara sauce. They did have mussels earlier, but he was sure he tucked a napkin under his chin before partaking in those. It could be an old stain, but his wife, Judy, normally caught things like that before she would let him out of the house. She would most likely have said something about it after they got dressed and she inspected his outfit. Jack started to think about all the other food he had eaten tonight. Bread, a Caesar salad, mussels and a rib eye steak with mashed potatoes and asparagus. He nodded to himself, it had to be the mussels. He would be able to flake it off if it was from the potatoes. Unless it was the gravy.

Without warning, his wife took a hold of his thigh and gave it a forceful squeeze, something she did regularly when she was trying to discretely get his attention. His mind ceased conjuring up all the food from tonight as he looked over at her and offered her a half-smile. "Yes dear?"

Judy looked only mildly annoyed at her husband's daydreaming and gave him what he read as an insincere smile. "I said, wasn't that interesting Jack? Didn't you wrestle in high school?"

Jack looked around the table and then back to his wife. "What dear?"

Judy's expression started to become scornful. "Jack, aren't you paying attention?"

Jack made nervous eye contact with his wife, his daughter and her boyfriend as he tried to figure out exactly what Judy was talking about. "Oh, sure. Interesting. Yes. I wrestled in college too." His eyes dropped back down to the stain on his tie.

Monica reached across the table and placed a few of her fingers on his arm. "Dad?"

"What? Oh, well, I seem to have gotten some food on my tie."

Monica squinted her eyes, and upon locating the stain; nodded and began to dip the corner of her napkin in a glass of club soda that was on the table. "Here Dad. Pat it down with this."

Jack smiled at her and took the napkin as he began to dab at the stain. Judy rolled her eyes and then laughed. "Oh Jack. I can't take you anywhere." Jack laughed and nodded. Judy then continued. "Were you listening to Pete's story at all?"

Jack looked across the table at Pete and nodded. "Sure, sure. He, ah, he just got back from Atlanta or Athens, right?"

"Oh Jack. That was hours ago. Please pay attention. You're being very rude to Pete."

"What? Oh, why? Does he have a stain too?" Jack held out the napkin he was using to clean his tie and offered it to Pete.

Pete laughed and gestured for him to take the napkin back. "No, that's all right Mr. Geller. I'm fine. I never wear the same tie twice anyway."

Judy rested her elbow on the table and smiled. "Isn't it interesting what Pete said? About the fighting thing?"

Jack looked up with a puzzled expression on his face. "Who's fighting?"

"I'm going to be fighting. I am joining the Ultimate Fighting Championship League. I actually start training tomorrow. I'll be flying to California to meet my team tonight after dinner and then I'll be bringing them back to New York."

Jack nodded. "Oh. Didn't you just get back from a trip?"

Judy playfully scoffed at her husband. "Jack. Pete is a very busy and successful man. He travels all the time. Isn't that right Monica?"

Monica nodded and Jack looked over at his daughter sympathetically. "So, fighting huh? Is that safe?"

"Oh well, sure. This is a professional league. These fighters have all achieved the peak of human athleticism. It is really amazing what you can get the body to do with just a little training and the proper diet."

Jack looked over at Monica and she lifted her eyebrows at him. He laughed as they shared a non-verbal consensus on how strange this all sounded. "What about your company? Who will run it while you're out there ultimate fighting?"

Pete laughed and signaled to the waiter who was across the room that he was ready for the check. "Oh, well, I can run that and train. It shouldn't be a problem."

"Well, that certainly won't leave you a lot of free time for anything else. You know Pete, I always say, what is all that work we do worth if you don't have time for leisure?"

"Well, I guess all my hard work is worth about a hundred and seventy-five million dollars."

Judy gasped and smiled at Jack as she squeezed his leg again. Only this time far gentler, signaling to Jack that she was becoming amorous. Jack slid his chair up closer to the table and bumped into it hard, knocking his glass over and spilling some water. Monica leaned over and began to clean up the spilled liquid and Pete laughed as he gently grabbed her wrist.

"Monica. What are you doing? We can get one of the waiters to do that."

"I know. I just, well, I can't leave it like this." She let out a nervous laugh and shrugged her shoulders as Pete shook his head at her, clearly amused by her insistence.

"Mon, I'm paying enough for dinner at this place, I'm pretty sure the least that they can do is clean it up quickly. Please, relax." Monica nodded and sat back down, twisting the napkin she was using in her hands. She made eye contact with her father and ducked her head down sheepishly. Jack smiled back, took one more look at everyone and then looked back down at the stain on his tie.

* * *

Jack removed his jacket and placed it on the back of the chair in his bedroom. He started to unbutton his shirt when his wife walked in, wearing only her bathrobe. "You know, Jack, I think you were rude at dinner tonight. You kept zoning in and out and you really weren't paying attention to anything Pete was talking about."

"Oh well, what do I know about office software. I mean, isn't he kind of boring? I don't know about him."

Judy laughed and walked over to her husband. "Oh honey, what is there not to know about? He's handsome, successful, rich, and apparently, he likes Monica. She might have actually done this one thing right for a change."

"I guess. I just, well, I don't know."

Judy smiled and wrapped her arms around her husband's waist. "Jack. I love how protective you get of our Monica. No one will ever be good enough for your little girl, will they? Not even millionaire athletes."

Jack pursed his lips and huffed. "That's not true. Of course I think there is someone out there that is good enough for her. I just don't know if Pete is it. I want to see her end up with someone who, well, someone who…"

Jack began to stammer and Judy chuckled as she cut him off. "Someone who loves her as much as her father does."

Jack allowed a prideful smile to spread across his lips. "Well, no one will ever love her that much." Judy released him from her embrace and chuckled her way over to her vanity so she could sit down and begin cleaning off her make-up. "You know how Monica is Judy. She needs someone who is really going to commit to her one-hundred percent. Anyone who tries to half-ass a relationship with her won't survive."

Judy made eye contact with her husband through the mirror. "Oh, and why not? Would you become my forceful tiger and defend her?"

"Oh no. I don't think I would have to do that. I am pretty sure Monica would beat me to it." He sat down on the edge of the bed and started to remove his socks. "I know this Pete seems perfect, and it would be nice to know she would never have to worry about money ever again, but Monica deserves someone who will treat her like she is the most important thing in his life. I just don't think that person is going to end up being Pete."

Judy scoffed and shook her head. "Well, let's hope Monica has some more sense in her head than her father does. You don't throw away men like Pete."

"Well, I remember a certain young woman who chose a less successful suitor." Jack looked over and flashed a wry smile.

Judy turned around and leaned on the back of her chair and smiled at Jack. "Well, Jack, that was because you were a sweet young man who treated me like I was your entire world. Plus, you know how to knock my socks off!" Jack waggled his eyebrows at that and Judy laughed. "As far as I know, there is only one Jack Geller in the world. What are the chances that Monica finds one for herself too?"

* * *

Monica opened the door and quietly slipped into her apartment. She looked over into the living room to find Chandler sitting on the couch, watching television. She smirked as she hung up her coat and placed her purse on the kitchen table.

"What are you doing here?"

Chandler turned around to face her, leaning over the back of the couch as he shook his head. "Joey. Ever since that guy Rachel dated yelled at the chick and the duck, he has been designating random hours of quiet time to help them recover. He turns the lights down low and we aren't allowed to talk or move or watch TV. It's insane."

Monica walked over and sat down next to him. She leaned her head on his shoulder and the two of them sat back. "Anyway, I thought I would come over here because there was this mov…uh…I mean, there was this documentary on and I didn't want to miss it."

Monica closed her eyes and chuckled under her breath. "Documentary?"

"Okay, fine. Mary Poppins is on and they're just about to get to the penguin scene!"

Monica opened her eyes and patted him on the leg. "Really? I love Mary Poppins."

Chandler nodded excitedly and turned the volume up on the remote. "I know right?" He then turned to look at Monica. "Please don't tell Joey and Ross."

She hummed as she smiled and laughed. "I won't."

Chandler put his feet up and absentmindedly stretched his arm out on the couch. Monica began to lean into him more and he dropped his hand onto her shoulder as he pulled her closer to him. "So, what did you do tonight?"

"Oh, I had that lovely yet awkward evening where I got to have dinner with Pete and my parents."

Chandler nodded and mimicked the speech pattern of a sports announcer. "Did you guys tell them about Pete becoming the next Ultimate Fighter?"

"Don't get me started on that."

Chandler started to look around the room. "Oh, hey, Mon. I'm not interrupting anything am I? Is Pete coming over? Because I can get out of your way."

Monica put her feet up on the coffee table next to his and shook her head. "No. He had to fly out to California tonight."

"Oh. Didn't he just come back from Atlanta or Athens or something like that?"

"Yeah, but he is very busy Chandler. He runs a very important company." Monica's tone became sharp and she winced as she realized she sounded just like her mother.

Chandler ducked his head and responded meekly. "Yeah, I know."

"I'm sorry. That wasn't about you. I guess, well, I had hoped that once I got a boyfriend, I would actually be able to see him for more than a few hours a night."

Chandler nodded. "Yeah, well, like you said. He has an important job. Not everyone can sit around on a Saturday night and watch Mary Poppins."

Monica smiled and closed her eyes again, leaning her head against Chandler once more and welcoming the warmth that was radiating from his body. "I know."

The movie started to play again, and Chandler bounced along gently to the musical number in the film. Monica opened one eye and glanced at him, smiling at how child-like he had become, and the simple pleasure he was taking from watching Mary Poppins. She rested her head back and closed her eyes again, feeling as if she were so comfortable that she might fall asleep. Feeling more at peace in this moment, nestled up against her best friend, than she had felt in a long time.

She began to speak softly, more to herself than to Chandler, and if he heard her, he did not acknowledge it. "I know not everyone can do that, but it would be nice to be with someone who could."


	25. I Found You

**I Found You**

"I'm being ridiculous."

Monica shakes her head as she drains the last of the scotch from her glass. She allows the ice to clink around the rim as the cold sensation of the frozen cubes tickle the tip of her tongue. She finishes her drink and holds the glass up to inspect it, making sure there are no more traces of alcohol left hiding under the ice. For a brief moment, she thinks about returning to the hotel bar for a refill, but she finds that she simply does not have the motivation to leave her room. At least, not just yet. Instead, she opts to open up the minibar fridge in her room and decides to take an inventory of what is available. She clicks her tongue as she shifts the miniature bottles of alcohol around on the shelf. Despite herself, she finds that she is starting to arrange them from her most to least preferred option and in size order. Turning each one so the labels face out.

There are two bottles of tequila that she instantly twists her face at and shoves towards the back of the fridge. Next to them she neatly places the two rum bottles. Through her many years of imbibing, she had found that neither beverage is particularly enticing to drink straight up. Next were the four bottles of vodka. She convinces herself that, in a pinch, she can probably drink them over ice. She lifts up a small bottle of orange juice from the lower shelf and nods to herself reluctantly. She can also mix the vodka with the juice, although, she remembers that when she drinks too many screwdrivers, they tend to disagree with her. Lastly, there are two bottles of whiskey and two bottles of blended scotch. She hopes they will be enough on their own and she won't have to resort to any of the other spirits to quiet her troubled mind. She also acknowledges, that at these prices, four bottles may be all she can reasonably afford to buy.

She snatches the first bottle of scotch, twists it open and dumps the contents into her glass. She shakes it around a bit and walks over to the small table in her room, removing an ice cube from the bucket she had filled up earlier from the machine in the hallway, and drops it in her glass. She takes a slow sip through the mixing straw, winces at the familiar sting in her throat, and sits down on the edge of the bed.

She uses the straw to spin the ice around in her glass as she turns to stare back at the pillows, which are still neatly tucked under the covers. The sheets and blanket still tightly wrapped under the mattress. Her eyes dance along the length of the entire undisturbed bed that is in the center of her room. It dawns on her, that if she were not sitting here on this bed right now, no one would be able to tell that anyone was even staying in this room. She has made absolutely no impression here in London. Left no evidence that she even exists here in this space. Was this really her life? Was she destined to spend her nights, forever alone in some pristine bedroom with a glass of chilled scotch in her hand? Would she never make an impression anywhere or on anyone ever again? Would she forever be invisible?

Monica looks down at her drink and curls her lips into a wry smile. "The hell with it."

She brings the glass up to her mouth and takes a long swig; drinking down half of what she had just prepared. She decides that if she is going to get drunk; she might as well do it properly. She stands up and walks over to the window, no longer interested in sitting on the perfectly made bed that seems to be mocking her and her loneliness with its near immaculate state of being. She pulls back the curtain to take in the view of the city, but instead, finds herself staring down at the street below. She watches people move about, getting in and out of cabs, walking towards storefronts and disappearing around the corners of the other buildings. "They probably have someone to go home to. All of them, they just can't wait to be with the one they love."

She points her finger down, pressing it against the window pane, as she tries to follow one of the people down on the street. "You probably have somebody at home right now, who is just waiting for you to come back so they can tell you how much they missed you today. Someone who doesn't look at you like you are some kind of old hag."

She chugs down the rest of her drink and quickly empties another bottle from the minibar into her glass. She walks across the room and stops as she catches her reflection in the mirror. She studies herself for a moment. "It's this dress. It is all boxy. It makes me look shapeless."

She tugs at fabric around her thighs and then inhales deeply. She tries to pull the dress tight around her waist. Holding in her breath, she turns her back to the mirror and cranes her neck to see what her backside looks like. She exhales sharply and sighs. "Who would want me."

The answer seems to be no one.

Her mind begins to race again. She wonders to herself, _"Why is it so hard? Why does it never seem to work out for me?"_

She knows that she is smart, funny, interesting, great in bed. "Maybe that's it. Maybe I just need to get laid."

She chuckles to herself and looks back at her perfectly made up bed and frowns. For the first time in her life, she wishes the room was in disarray. At least, then it would look like someone was having some kind of fun. There would be some sign that a person was in here. She knows, that if she had someone in her life right now, they would probably be messing that bed up at this very moment. They would laugh and giggle with excitement as they tumble down onto the mattress. Then, they would start to share deep, passionate kisses, only to break them up with a series of smaller kisses in-between. As if they were leaving tiny signatures on each other's lips. They would brush their hands against the most sensitive parts of each other's body as they feel the warmth radiating off of each other. Their body temperatures would begin to rise and desire would take a hold of them. Twisting themselves into one perfect union, body and soul.

When they were finally finished making love, they would lie next to each other and share a satisfied smile. Maybe, they would have a sleepy conversation about their time in London. Maybe she would even be able to laugh about that man who thought she was Ross's mother, brushing it off as a humorous anecdote instead of a soul crushing critique. They would indulge in a few more soft kisses and settle into a deep sleep until one of them woke up, ready for another round of toe-curling sex.

If she had someone, she could talk to them about how infuriating her mother was tonight. How she may have a slight twinge of jealousy over her brother's impending nuptials. Someone who would understand all of her anxieties and frustrations. Someone who would make her feel better and know exactly what to say to soothe her troubled mind. They would know her better than anyone else. They would be on her team. Someone who she knew, that no matter what happens, they would love her.

But she does not have someone. She came to London all alone. She has been all alone for so long, she feels as though she has forgotten what it is like to have a partner she can rely on. In less than a year, she will be thirty. By that time, being alone will no longer feel like the personal choice of a strong, independent woman. It will feel like a heavy weight hanging from her neck. It will feel worse than it does right now. She does not think that is even possible. She knows that she cannot handle worse. She can barely handle how it feels tonight.

Because tonight, she feels like no one wants her. No one gets her. No one can see her for who she really is. Absolutely no one. Maybe no one ever will. Maybe, no one ever has. When she thinks about all the men that have been in her life, she wonders, _"Did any of them really know me at all?"_

She did not know if any of them truly valued every piece of who she is. Every aspect of her personality. At the time, she thought at least one or two of them had, but now, she was no longer certain. If they did, wouldn't one of them be here right now? Would she be alone tonight if any of them truly loved her unconditionally? If they wanted every inch of her entire being, would they not have accepted all her imperfections and stuck around? Did any of them ever see who she really was?

Monica wonders if that is the toughest part to reconcile and put behind her. How ignored she felt all night. How invisible she was to everyone at that rehearsal dinner. It seems, that in a crowded room, she is destined to get swallowed up. To be lost and incapable being detected as everyone's attention always seems to be on other people. No one ever realizing she is even there. She might as well have been a piece of furniture tonight. Some undesirable thing, like a broken lamp that does not light up, or a nondescript wall sconce that leaves no impression on anyone who passes by it. How utterly unseen she feels right now, in this moment looking at that perfectly made and undisturbed bed.

She sips down at her drink. She knows if she continues at this pace, she will be useless tomorrow, but right now, she does not have it in her to care. She just needs to feel something other than this overwhelming malaise. She needs to feel wanted. Even if just for one night. Even if just for a few moments.

Suddenly, a terrible thought creeps into her head. Maybe she was right before, maybe she just needs some quick, meaningless sex. Feel something, anything, other than what she is feeling right now. She snorts out a disbelieving laugh and shakes her head. Without even realizing it, she utters his name aloud. "Joey."

Immediately she knows why she did, he is quick, meaningless sex personified. If there was anybody that she knows in the entire world who will not question an offer of no strings attached sex from her, it is him.

"No. I can't."

She sucks down the rest of her drink and reaches into the fridge for one of the bottles of whiskey. "I can't. It would make things weird and awkward tomorrow. There's no way he could keep it a secret. He'd brag to somebody and then everyone would know how desperate I am."

She twists off the cap and dumps the contents of the bottle into her glass. "No. No way. I would never live it down."

Her hand reaches for her keycard and she steps towards the door. "Oh Monica. What are you doing? This is Joey. You're drunk. You are going to look so pathetic."

She stands in the doorway of her room and hesitates. Despite her reservations, she knows that Joey surely will not turn her down. He probably won't even question her. She can see it now. He would just nod and that one-track mind of his would take over, and at least she would get a small amount of gratification before the night was over. At least for a small moment, she will feel wanted. Maybe, for a brief sliver of the night, she will feel like someone thinks she is beautiful and desirable.

Monica finds herself out in the hallway, with her drink in her hand, before she can even make a final decision to go through with this insane impulse. It is as if her body is working on autopilot. Ignoring her internal protests. _"It's just one night. A friend helping a friend." _

Monica turns the corner and stops as she sees the hall that leads to his room. She takes a moment to close her eyes and catch her breath. _"You can do this."_

Monica knows that this is not going to be what she really wants, yet, she is going to settle for it anyway. Maybe, if she is lucky, it will last a little longer than a half-hour. Maybe, if she is really lucky, she will actually be able to finish and feel some semblance of physical satisfaction. She just needs something to take away all of these terrible thoughts racing around in her brain. She hopes that some combination of alcohol and sex can cloud her mind long enough that she will at least be able to get some sleep tonight.

She steps in front of his door and stands there, staring at it for what feels like an eternity. She knows this is a bad idea, but she also thinks to herself, _"To hell with it." _

She resolves herself to the idea that since all of her good ideas never seem to work out, maybe she will have better luck with a bad one instead. In this moment of alcohol infused courage, she does not care if she is settling. She knows that the man on the other side of this door is not going to be that special someone she had just fantasized about moments ago before leaving her room. She knows that there is a chance that this will feel strange and awkward, and she knows that she may lose her nerve and back out at the last minute.

She lifts her hand to the door and prepares to knock. She knows that the man who answers isn't going to be the one who knows everything about her, he won't be the one who will love her unconditionally, who values her above all others, who wants her more than any other woman. Maybe he won't even be able to satisfy her sexually, leaving her feeling as if she wasted her time. Maybe she will wake up afterwards and regret it; realizing far too late what a mistake this is. Perhaps, despite being with him, she will still feel invisible. She will realize in the morning that despite all her efforts, she did not make a lasting impression on him. There is a chance that he would never be able to pick her out of a crowded room filled with women. But none of that matters. She needs to feel something other than what she is feeling right now. Anything would be better than this. Even a mistake. Even a regret.

She finally finds the courage to knock and as she waits for someone to answer, she takes a sip from her drink. No, the man on the other side of this door will not change her life, he might not even be able to change her mood. She will still fly back to New York in two days and find herself alone. Unseen. Invisible. A face lost in a crowd. She wonders if she just has to come to terms with the fact that she may never find what she has been searching for her entire life. That the man she one day hopes to fall in love with will never be found. She just needs to accept that there will be no magic for her in London.


	26. I've Been Waiting

**I've Been Waiting**

Joey turns his head and looks around the bar, hoping to find the cute waitress he had been flirting with all night to keep his mind off of how homesick he has become ever since his conversation with Phoebe. He lifts up his glass and inspects it; hoping to find that it contains at least one last sip of beer. He groans a bit as he finds it is completely empty. He turns to face his friends and shakes his head. "Oh man. We have got to get more of these Boddingtons!"

Ross laughs nervously and looks over at Emily who offers him a shrug as she glances at the clock behind the bar. He turns back to Joey and frowns a bit as he speaks. "Oh, I don't know. I think we have to head back. You just have to show up to the rehearsal dinner and eat, but Emily and I have a few more things to do tonight and tomorrow morning."

Joey looks around the table in search of support from his other two friends, finding none. Monica offers him a sympathetic smile while she runs her hands over her shoulders as she shudders a bit from the chill in the room. He turns his gaze to Chandler, but he was not paying attention as his eyes were glued to one of the televisions behind the bar. Joey sighs and looks back at Ross. "Ah, you know what, I guess I'm ready to go too. No matter how much I drink I can't seem to forget about the pizzas."

Emily looks at Ross with a confused expression on her face and he leans in to speak softly to her. "I don't know what he means either. I don't understand about twenty percent of the things that come out of his mouth." Emily nods as she slips her arms into her coat.

Monica shakes her head and then looks over at Chandler and gently elbows him on the side. "Hey, what are you doing?"

"I am trying to make it look like I understand the sports that are on the TV over here. How am I doing?"

Monica looks behind the bar and then back at Chandler. "Not that good, since it looks like that's a car commercial."

"Oh, thank God. I thought it was some kind of extreme rugby and I kept wondering where the ball was."

"So, we're leaving?" Joey starts to get up from his seat as Ross grabs his coat from behind his chair.

"Yeah, I gave Angus's card to the waitress so she could call him and have him pick us up. He should be here any minute."

Monica moans a bit and looks over at her brother. "Oh wait. I just ordered dessert."

"Oh. Well, uh, how about Joey, Emily and I send Angus back to get you after he drops us off at the hotel. Chandler, you don't mind waiting with Monica, right?"

Chandler looks down at his half-full glass of beer and nods. "Sure."

Monica shrugs her shoulders and bobs her head up and down as she smiles at Emily and her brother. "Okay, I guess. We'll see you tomorrow. One more day and then you're getting married!" She flails her hands around in excitement.

Emily smiles in response to her exuberance as Ross leans down to give Monica a quick kiss on the cheek. Emily pulls some money from her purse and places it on the table. "That should cover most of the tab."

The two of them begin to walk towards the front door of The Wheatsheaf as Joey grumbles to himself and follows them out of the bar.

Chandler turns towards Monica as he takes a sip from his glass. "You ordered dessert?"

"Yeah, they had this sticky toffee pudding on the menu and I just had to try it." She waves an admonishing finger at him. "Don't judge me." Monica shoots Chandler a stern glare and with his hands, he gestures his surrender. "Anyway, this has been a stressful couple of days already. I can't believe they got in a fight and almost called the wedding off."

"I know. Normally I'm not a fan of meddling, but it sounds like you did a good job sticking your nose in their business this time."

Monica smiles and playfully tosses her head side to side. "I know!"

The waitress comes out with a large serving of the dessert and puts in down on the table between Chandler and Monica. She smiles at them as she places two glasses which are slightly filled with brandy in front of each of them. "Here you go luv. On the house for you two! Congratulations on the wedding."

Chandler looks up confused at the waitress. "What? Oh, we're not…"

He gets cut off as Monica jabs him in the ribs with her elbow. "What he was trying to say is, we're not used to this kind of treatment back home in New York."

The waitress offers a half-smile and nods her head. "Well, let us know if we can get you anything else."

As the server leaves, Chandler turns to face Monica and points at his side where she had poked him. "Ow! What was that for?"

"If someone wants to give you free drinks and dessert because they think you are getting married, you don't deprive them of that pleasure by pointing out that you aren't."

Chandler purses his lips and reluctantly nods in agreement. He watches Monica turn the plate around a few times as she studies the dessert. She looks over at him as he peers over her shoulder at the sticky toffee pudding and offers him a fork. "You might as well help me. There's no way I can eat this all by myself."

"Sure you can. I've seen the home movies."

Monica shakes her head as she tries not to smile at his verbal jab. "Do you want to share dessert or do you want this fork shoved somewhere that you will find very uncomfortable?"

Chandler nods. "I see your point." He takes the fork from her hand and smiles defensively.

* * *

Chandler helps Monica up from the table and then pulls out some money from his pocket. He starts to fumble with the bills and coins in his hand. "I have no idea what any of this is."

Monica looks and grabs some of the cash from him, placing it down on the table. "That should do it."

Chandler shrugs and stuffs the remaining cash back into his pocket as he guides her out of the pub. He looks around the street and then at his watch. "I don't see the cab. I have Angus's card here somewhere, should I go back inside and call him?"

Monica shakes her head. "Nah, it's a nice night. Why don't we walk back."

"You know how to get back to the hotel from here?"

Monica wrinkles her brow as if confused by his question. "Uh, yeah. Don't you?"

"I still get lost trying to find the elevator on my floor."

Monica shakes her head and turns sharply down the street. "I put detailed maps in everybody's pre-flight packet. Did you not read it?"

"Oh yeah, well here's the thing, I was going to, but then I realized I didn't really want to."

Monica huffs and starts to walk quickly down the sidewalk. "Follow me." Chandler shrugs and strides at a brisk pace to catch up with her. Monica stops walking for a minute and snaps her fingers. "Oh, you know what; we are close to London Bridge! Let's go by it and take a look."

"So, we're just going to walk around London at night?" Chandler looks around nervously. "Isn't that, I don't know; dangerous!"

Monica looks over at him, perplexed. "What?"

He leans in, trying to speak without being heard by the other people out on the sidewalk. "What if there are, you know, hooligans?"

"Hooligans? What year do you think this is?"

"I'm just saying. We're in a foreign city that we don't know our way around in…"

"That _**you**_ don't know _**your**_ way around in. I made a packet!" Monica puts her hand out to stop Chandler in his tracks and then points upward in front of them. "There it is!" She reaches into her purse and pulls out a small, disposable camera. "Take my picture."

"I should have gone home with Joe." Chandler shakes his head as Monica moves in front of him so that the bridge is behind her.

Monica twists up her face to mock him and then resumes smiling as Chandler looks through the viewfinder. He places his finger on the button to take a picture, but jumps back when someone approaches him from behind and taps him on the shoulder.

"Hey, do you want me to take that for you?"

"Huh?" Chandler steps back as he turns to see an older woman looking up at him.

"You know, so you and your girl can be in the picture together."

Chandler looks back-and-forth between the woman and Monica. "Oh, we're not…"

Monica cranes her neck a bit as she tries to figure out what is going on. "Chandler? Is everything okay?"

"Yes." He hands the camera to the woman. "This nice lady is offering to take our picture."

"Okay."

Chandler shrugs his shoulders and walks over to stand next to Monica. She instinctively snakes her arms around his waist, and he puts his hand over her shoulder as they pose for the photo. Once the woman signals that she is done, the two of them walk back over to her.

Monica reaches out for the camera and smiles. "Thank you so much…"

"Margaret. So, are you tourists?"

Chandler rolls his eyes. "What could have possibly given us away?" Monica elbows him in the ribs again and flashes him a brief stern look. He rubs his side and glares at her. "Ow! Cut that out! That's like the third time tonight that you've done that!"

Monica rolls her eyes. "Well, I'll stop doing it when you stop giving me reasons _to_ do it."

Margaret laughs and winks at Monica. "Gotta keep our men in check, right?"

Monica chuckles and then her face straightens up. "Oh, we're not…"

Margaret cuts her off, leaving Monica speechless for a moment. "You know, London Bridge isn't all that great to look at. This thing is just a concrete eye-sore. The view is nice from it if you walk across. Westminster Bridge is nice though. Have you seen that?"

Chandler looks back at the bridge. "Really? I like it."

"Oh yeah, and you know, if you hop in my car, I'll give you two a ride over for a price."

Monica smiles. "Oh, I don't know; we have to get back to our hotel soon. There are still some things I can probably do before the wedding."

"Oh! Well I give discount tours to couples about to make the plunge."

Chandler laughs. "No, we…" Monica jabs him again in the ribs and his eyes go wide as he wildly gesticulates with his hands. "Come on! Now you're just doing it on purpose!"

Monica tries to suppress a smile as she looks over at Margaret. "What kind of discount?"

Margaret runs her fingers over her chin. "Well, how much do you have?"

Monica looks over at Chandler and raises an inquisitive eyebrow. "Chandler?"

He rolls his eyes and pulls out some money from his pocket. Margaret looks it over and snatches everything but two coins. "That'll do it! Come on you two."

As they follow her to her car, Chandler looks over at Monica. "Did your packet say anything about me going broke on the second day?"

Monica finally succumbs to her instincts and laughs out loud as they reach the car. She opens the door and slides into the back seat.

* * *

"Here you go. Nice, right?"

Monica looks out the window and smiles. "Chandler! Isn't this beautiful? Ooo! Big Ben."

Chandler looks out the window and forms a crooked smile. "Yeah, I guess so."

Margaret pulls over to the curb and then makes eye contact with Chandler in the rear view mirror. "Why don't you two get out and take some pictures and walk across. I'll meet you on the other side."

Chandler leans over and whispers into Monica's ear. "So, we're paying her not to drive us around?"

Monica waves him off and opens her door, taking him by the hand as she pulls him out of the back seat of the car behind her. "Come on. Let's take a look around. Everything is so pretty all lit up!"

Chandler steps out of the car and lets his eyes dart from one side to the other until they finally land on Big Ben. He allows a smile to spread across his lips. "You know what Marge! This ain't half bad."

She shifts the car into gear and starts to lift her foot from the brake. "Okay, I'll see you on the other side."

Margaret speeds away and Chandler turns to face Monica. "I'm pretty sure we just got ripped off."

"Oh, she'll be there. She seems nice. Come on, a walk'll do us both some good. Plus, I can work off that dessert so I can still fit in my dress tomorrow."

Chandler looks Monica up and down, as if he were studying her form. "I think you're going to be okay."

She shakes her head, slaps his arm and then links hers through his as they start to walk. "Oh, we have to get another picture when we get to the middle. We need Big Ben all lit up behind us."

Chandler rolls his eyes. "Great. More pictures."

Monica squeezes his arm playfully as the two of them begin to walk across the bridge. Monica's head moves around as if it were on a swivel; constantly turning as she looks at the lit-up buildings on either side of the bridge. "It really is something, huh? Being here, in another country. I feel like it hasn't hit me yet because we've been so focused on the wedding. Is this what it was like when you and Joey went sight-seeing?"

"Our trip was a little less this," Chandler waves his free hand out across the view in front of them. "And a little more this." Chandler then takes his hand and mimes hanging himself, sticking his tongue out and closing his eyes as he plays dead.

Monica yanks on his arm to bring him back to life. "Oh, it couldn't have been that bad."

"You obviously did not see Joey's hat." Monica giggles to herself and returns her gaze out towards Big Ben. "Actually, I feel pretty bad. I probably was a little hard on him."

"That's because you're a grump."

"A what?"

"Grump. You can't let yourself have fun for five minutes."

"I'll have you know I am a hoot. Anyway, looks who's talking."

Monica pulls away from him for a moment to shoot him a discerning glare. "What does that mean?"

"The only way you can have fun is if you blocked off a specific time for it on your calendar." Monica gasps as Chandler starts to affect his voice to sound like hers, except in a more mocking tone. "We can't start the game until seven because that is when we said we would play. Not a minute sooner!"

Monica scoffs. "Being organized is half the fun!"

Chandler laughs and shakes his head. He looks around and slows his pace. "All right. What do you say? You want a picture here?"

Monica looks around at the backdrop behind her and nods. "Okay. Oh but wait…" she takes her camera out and looks at some of the passersby on the bridge. She lifts her hand and waves it as she tries to get someone's attention. "Excuse me, hello? Sir? Ma'am?"

Finally, an older man and woman who were walking and holding hands, stops in front of them. "Yes?"

"Would you mind taking our picture?"

The couple look at each other and the woman nods. "Sure." She takes the camera and clicks a few photos as Monica and Chandler stand next to each other. She hands the camera back to Monica. "Ooo, I think I got a good one. You both should look very cute in it."

"Thanks!" Monica waves as she places her camera back in her bag.

"Cute?" Chandler pouts and huffs as he repeats himself. "Cute?"

"What's the matter with cute?"

"No man wants to be called cute. Babies and old people are cute. Kittens are cute. Men want to be called rugged, dashing and dangerously sexy."

"Dashing? Who still says that?" Monica shakes her head. "Cute is better than all of those anyway."

"No, it isn't"

"Of course it is. When you say someone is cute, you aren't just talking about how they look. You're talking about the whole package. It means your endearing and adorable and you make people feel safe and comfortable and they just love being around you. Trust me. You would much rather have a woman call you cute than anything else."

"Really? But I thought it meant they looked at you like you were a puppy or something else equally pathetic."

Monica rolls her eyes. "You are hopeless."

As they approach the other end of the bridge, Monica looks up and points at Margaret who is sitting in her car across the street. Chandler puffs his chest out as they walk closer to her. "See Mon, I told you she would be there." Monica, left speechless, can only open her mouth wide in shock as a retort.

"So how was your walk then?"

Monica smiles as she looks around behind her one more time. "Oh, thank you for this. I don't think we would have come here on our own. Everything looked wonderful."

"Okay. Hop in. You paid me enough for one more stop."

Chandler looks over at Monica and then back at Margaret. "So, uh, is this a tour company? Or a taxi?"

Margaret shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head. "Something like that I guess. Don't think to hard about it."

* * *

Monica looks out the window and watches the buildings as they drive down the street. Chandler turns to look at her and smiles. She catches his reflection in the window and smirks. "What are you looking at."

"You're really enjoying this, huh?"

"Yeah. I spent all day with Ross trying to fix up that hall. Except for that first day when we all went out, I haven't gotten to see any of this. Especially at night. It just seems so much more relaxed." She turns to face him and smiles. "Thanks for hanging out with me."

"No problem, I'm having fun too."

Monica turns back towards the window and resumes watching the city pass by as they quickly speed down the street.

Margaret pulls the car to the side of the road and leans over her seat to face them. "Okay. Here we are. Everybody out."

Chandler ducks down to look out the front window. "Uh, where are we?"

"This is the north side of Regents Park." She leans forward and points. "Take that path there and follow the signs for Primrose Hill. It is lovely up there right now. Just a wonderful view with everything lit up." Monica nods and Chandler shrugs his shoulders as they exit the car. Margaret reaches down and picks up a bottle of water from the passenger seat. "Here. It is a bit of a walk and you might need this."

Chandler nods as he takes the water from her. "Thanks."

"Thanks nothing. Let me see how much money you have left." Chandler tilts his head slightly as a confused look falls upon his face. He reaches into his pocket and Margaret starts to flip through the money in his hand and pulls a few coins from the pile. "Okay, that should be good enough for the water. Have fun you two."

Chandler looks back at Monica who seems to be too distracted by the buildings on the street outside the park. He turns back to Margaret. "Okay, so, uh, I guess you'll be here when we get back?"

Margaret laughs and shakes her head. "What? Oh no. You'll have to book a service when you're through."

"Oh. Uh, I'm not sure if we have a phone…"

"Okay! It'll take you about an hour to get to the top if you don't linger about!" She taps her horn lightly, letting out a honk as she pulls away.

Chandler lets his eyes go wide. "An hour?"

Monica turns to face him. "What?"

"I think she took all my money and abandoned us."

Monica wraps her arm around his and chuckles. "Come on. Let's go. I want to check it out. It looks really pretty in there."

Chandler looks down at her, noticing her shivering slightly in the cold, night air. "You didn't bring a jacket tonight, did you?"

She shrugs her shoulders. "No. But, you know, in my defense, I didn't think we would be walking in a park at nine 'o'clock at night."

Chandler slips his coat off and hands it to her. "I'm already broke. I might as well be cold too."

Monica smiles as she pulls the oversized jacket around her. "Thanks."

"So, the place where they are having the ceremony, you guys really fixed that up, huh?"

"Yeah, I mean. It's not perfect. But I think we made it look good. Emily seemed to like it."

"You did all that for Ross?" Monica shrugs her shoulders and nods. "You're a good sister."

Monica looks down to hide her bashful expression. "Thanks. I think so too."

Chandler offers her his arm again and she links hers around his. "You're a good friend too."

She leans her head against his arm and smiles. "You're not so bad yourself."

They walk in silence for a few moments. Enjoying the sounds of the city and the scenery along the path. Chandler looks over at Monica and clicks his tongue. "Do you know how to get home from here?"

Monica shakes her head. "No. This is definitely not in the packet."

Chandler laughs as he pats her hand in his; he pulls her in close as they walk through the park and up the hill. "We are definitely going to be attacked by hooligans."

* * *

A/N – Disclaimer 1: I know this might be my most implausible pre-mondler story yet, giving them a night in London alone, but the way I see it, the rehearsal dinner was on the third day. So, my canon is: 1st day – arrive, the whole gang goes sightseeing (Monica has all those pictures Rachel smudges up when they get back). 2nd day, Joey and Chandler go out, Monica and Ross fix up the venue, then this fic happens that night and the next day is the rehearsal dinner.

Disclaimer 2: I do not have any idea if what I have them doing in London makes any sense to anyone who has been there. I just looked some things up and read some accounts from people who have been there. If anything is really egregious, please feel free to let me know and I can correct it. **Thanks to Fawe taking time to point out some issues I changed a few things in this story. I eliminated any reference to the view from London Bridge, cut out any mention of the city when at Westminster Bridge, and Margaret is no longer a cab driver, just some grifter. Hopefully that works, and if it doesn't I am open to change it again! Thanks so much Fawe!**

Disclaimer 3: I feel old when a song I chose for a chapter title is from the 90s.


	27. Here Comes Your Man

**Here Comes Your Man**

"You know, if I was your boyfriend, I'd carry your bags up to our room for you."

Monica shakes her head as she tries to suppress a smile. "Actually, if you were my boyfriend, I'm pretty sure I would be the one to carry the bags. You're kind of a wimp."

Chandler turns his head and looks at the bags that are settled down by the foot of the stairs and reluctantly nods. "You know, normally I would be insulted by something like that, but your bag does look awfully heavy."

Monica rolls her eyes as she watches him skip over and grabs his bag. He lifts it from the floor and looks over his shoulder at her, flashing her a roguish grin before making his way upstairs.

Ross looks around the room and sighs. "Hopefully this rain stops soon. I'm going to go upstairs, unpack, and make sure that Chandler doesn't take the biggest room in the place." He jogs up the stairs as Rachel absentmindedly lets her eyes fixate on him until he reaches the second floor and dips out of sight. She lets out a wanting sigh as her eyes stay fixed on the staircase.

Monica starts to walk around the kitchen as she slowly begins to memorize where everything is. She pulls open a few drawers, moving utensils around in an effort to reorganize how they are laid out. She then pops open a few cabinets until she finds the one that stores the glasses and carefully inspects each one to ensure they are clean.

Joey chuckles to himself and settles down on one of the stools by the countertop. "I can't believe he is still on this. He hasn't stopped since we left."

Rachel turns her head as she takes off her hat and runs her hands through her hair. "Who is doing what now?"

Monica shakes her head. "Chandler. I guess I must have impugned his good name or something when I told him I didn't see him as boyfriend material. Now he won't let it go."

Rachel shakes her head as she looks down. "Oh. Man, that dude is weird sometimes."

Joey purses his lips and tilts his head. "You know, I can see why he'd be upset."

Monica screws up her face in confusion. "What? Why?"

"I mean, look; any guy would probably feel pretty terrible if someone told them they weren't good enough to go out with, plus; he was a pretty good boyfriend to Janice."

Rachel lets her fingers dance along her chin and nods. "You know, he's right. Remember when he thought he was coming on too strong and then he just told her how he felt about her." Monica nods as she places a few dirty glasses in the sink. "I know I'd like that. No games. Just someone being honest about how they feel."

Monica pulls out some dish soap, a rag, and a pair of latex gloves from under the sink and begins to set herself up to wash some dishes. Without turning her head, she nods as she looks down at the task she had charged herself with. "Yeah, I can see that."

Joey nods and points at Rachel. "And it wasn't his fault they broke up. He was pretty tore up about it too."

Rachel nods. "You should have seen the state I found him in."

Joey looks up and points at her. "Lionel Ritchie?"

Rachel nods somberly. She snaps her finger as she looks up again. "You know, he did take her to some nice restaurants."

"And he was thinking about buying her something expensive, jewelry or something for her birthday."

"And he brought her around us all the time and wasn't afraid to hold her hand or give her a kiss in front of his friends. That is always a good thing. I know I hate when a guy is different with me alone than when his friends are around."

Monica turns around from her scrubbing and uses her forearm to wipe at her brow. "I guess. Now, are you guys going to help me clean this stuff up or what?"

Rachel, ignoring Monica, sits down next to Joey. "He was pretty upset when he thought he screwed it up with her, and he came to us for advice."

Joey nods and smiles. "Yeah, I mean, what guy does that? He's loyal too."

Monica firmly places her hands on both sides of the sink and blows some of her hair out of her face. "Good God, Joey, why don't you go out with him?"

Joey stiffens up and grumbles under his breath. Rachel looks over at him and smiles. "Yep. The dude is weird, but I think he could make a pretty good boyfriend. Not for me, but who knows, for somebody. Maybe we should try to set him up when we get back to the city."

Joey opens his eyes wide and he begins to angrily jab his thumb at himself. "If you're going to start introducing us to all your hot coworker friends, don't you think Joey should have first dibs?"

Before Rachel can reply, Chandler hops off the last step and walks over, joining the two of them as they watch Monica scrub at the dirty dishes she had found. "Hello kids. What are we talking about?"

"Well, uh, we were just…" Rachel trails off as she begins to stammer.

Monica, seeing Rachel struggle to come up with something, turns off the faucet and walks over. "We're talking about going to the beach tomorrow if the rain lets up. Do you want to go?"

Chandler slowly starts to nod his head with long, exaggerated bobs. "Oh-ho-ho-ho! I see what's going on here." Chandler reaches down and pulls the collar of his shirt together tightly. "You're hoping to catch a glimpse of the goods before you change your mind about me. You want to check me out in all my masculine glory."

Monica shakes her head. "You got me. I just have to check out that beefcake you're hiding under there."

"You know what. I'm not some piece of meat for your viewing pleasure. Some mindless eye candy you can just sit there and ogle." Monica shares an incredulous look with Rachel as both women try to hold back laughter. "Fine. I'll go to your little beach party, but I am going to wear a shirt the whole time and deny you of all of this." Chandler starts to slowly gesture at himself as if he were on display.

"Who are you kidding. You haven't taken your shirt off since your nubbinectomy."

"It's still healing!"

* * *

Chandler bursts into apartment twenty as he hops up and slides on top of the counter, startling Monica and Rachel from their breakfast of toast and coffee. "Hello ladies." He lifts his chin up and looks off to the side triumphantly.

Rachel shares a look with Monica and lets out a chuckle. "Well, hello there Mr. Studman. I take it you had a good time last night."

"Oh, you heard? I had hoped these doors were a little more soundproof, but what can I say, when you've got it, you've got it."

Monica shakes her head. "You didn't have it until I gave it to you."

"I still had to execute on the field coach, and let's just say, I might have scored a few touchdowns."

Rachel's eyes go wide as she smiles salaciously. "A few?"

Chandler hops off the counter, reaches over and snatches a piece of toast from the table. "I don't kiss and tell."

Monica holds her hand up as if confused by his statement. "What? That's all you've ever done since I've known you."

Chandler giggles and dances back and forth from one foot to the other. "Yeah, I know. That's why I came over here! I blew her mind. I knocked her socks off. I curled her toes! I made her make a noise that might have actually registered on the Richter scale. I moved heaven and earth if you will." He then shoves the toast in his mouth and mumbles out a quick "Goodbye" as he playfully skips out the door.

Monica and Rachel turn to each other and start to laugh. Rachel takes a sip of her coffee and shakes her head. "Well, I guess that means Chandler is good in bed now. Who would have guessed it?"

"I know. He just needed a little guidance."

Rachel chuckles. "You may have created a monster though. He is going to be impossible to deal with now."

Monica rolls her eyes. "I know. When a guy knows he gave a girl an orgasm, he crows about it for a week like he discovered El Dorado!"

Rachel tilts her head and shrugs her shoulders. "Aww. I think Chandler trying to be good in bed for Kathy is kind of sweet, and gross now that I am actually picturing him having sex." Rachel gives off an exaggerated shiver and then shudders as she sinks her head down into her shoulders.

"Yeah. Still, I guess good for Kathy."

"You know, maybe we should start a service where we take these pathetic men and turn them into amazing boyfriends who know how to please women."

"Oh, Chandler isn't pathetic."

Rachel waves her hand at Monica as if to dismiss her. "Oh, I know. I actually think it is kind of adorable how he is with her."

Monica nods. "They do seem really happy."

"Do you know, the other day, he actually asked me to explain jewelry to him?"

"Really?"

"Yep. He wanted to buy her something nice, and was so worried he would end up getting something tacky by mistake. We spent an hour going through my jewelry box."

Monica shakes her head. "Look at us. We do all this work and neither one of us gets to benefit from it."

"What? With Chandler?"

"No. Not with Chandler. Just, you know, with someone else who is like him." Monica gets up and brings her glass and mug to the sink.

"Someone like Chandler?"

Monica turns around and emphatically shakes her head. "No. Just someone who cares about being the best version of themselves when they are with you. You know?" Monica gestures towards the front door with her thumb. "Take what he has been doing. Buying sentimental gifts because he remembers some off-handed comment she made to him about a book she read as a kid. Wanting to be better in bed. Buying her nice jewelry."

Rachel leans her chin into her hand and nods. "You know something? You are absolutely right. Why can't we have that? Someone who is devoted, and caring, and attentive and interested in letting us finish for a change."

"I know! Don't we deserve to have good boyfriends too?"

Rachel starts to laugh and gets up to place her mug into the sink next to Monica's. "Do you realize what we are saying?" Monica flashes a puzzled look at her and shakes her head. "We're basically saying that Chandler is a good boyfriend."

"Huh." Monica nods as she looks off into the apartment with a contemplative expression on her face. "Who would have thought that Chandler Bing would actually be boyfriend material."


	28. She's a Rainbow

**She's a Rainbow**

Monica turns the key and opens the door, enthusiastically entering her apartment with a smile spread across her face from ear-to-ear. Still drunk from the endorphin high she has been experiencing ever since she got to meet her nephew for the first time. Her cheeks hurt from all of the smiling she has been doing since he was born, only a few short hours ago. Ross and Chandler bounce into the kitchen behind her, both men equally swept up in jubilation as a result of the residual euphoria still coursing through their veins, also courtesy of witnessing Ben's birth.

Monica spins around, giddy, as her eyes sparkle and she slips off Chandler's light sweatshirt jacket, handing it to him. "Thanks for letting me borrow this." Chandler nods in response and flings the jacket over his shoulder. "Okay. I am just going to get changed and then we can go down and meet the others for dinner."

Ross, looking like a bundle of nervous energy, starts to walk circles around the coffee table. "I'm a dad. I can't believe it. I am now responsible for two people. Me and my son."

Chandler chuckles as he grabs a bottle of water from the refrigerator. "Wow. That's two more people than I take responsibility for."

Monica shakes her head as she smiles at Chandler's joke, she then places her hands on Ross's arm, stopping him in mid-stride. "More importantly, I'm an aunt."

Chandler plops down heavily on the couch and puts his feet up on the coffee table in one motion. "How exactly is that more important?"

"It just is."

Monica turns around and briskly scampers into her room, closing the door behind her. She pulls her shirt off and starts to go through her dresser drawers as she looks for a fresh outfit to wear. She pulls out a red sweater and some denim blue jeans, and nods in approval. She places the jeans on the bed but then takes the folded sweater in her arms and slowly cradles it as if it were a baby. She shakes her head and shudders as she realizes how she must look and quickly tosses the sweater down on the bed. She grabs a roll-on deodorant from the top of the dresser and quickly applies it to herself. One she is satisfied, she finishes getting changed into the clean clothes she picked out and fixes her hair.

Once she feels certain that she looks put together, she approaches her bedroom door and hesitates for a moment as she puts her hand on the knob. She instantly allows her mind to drift back to the recovery room at the hospital. With the precise muscle memory of a world-class athlete, her arms instinctively position themselves as if she were holding Ben again. She looks down into the crook of her arm, envisioning his face there, the little face that she swore was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. "I am going to love you more than anyone else you will ever know. Even your mom and dad, but don't tell them that. Just make sure they know I'm your favorite person when you get older."

She smiles and reaches for the door again, only to stop herself from opening it when she hears her brother say her name. She leans in close, pressing her ear against the door to hear what Ross and Chandler were saying on the other side.

"Hey, uh, so what is this thing about you getting Monica pregnant?"

Chandler stiffens up and his feet drop to the floor. "What?"

"Well, I guess Mon told Phoebe and Phoebe told Joey and he told me that you were going to get Monica pregnant."

Chandler nods and rolls his eyes. "Well, it must be true. You heard it through the Tribbiani network, which has a flawless track record."

Ross smiles, but then straightens up as he points at Chandler. "No, I'm serious. What was that all about. Do you really want to have a baby with my sister?"

"Seriously? I think buying a pack of gum with a woman is too big of a commitment, but you think I offered to get someone pregnant?" Ross laughs as Chandler stands up. He looks over towards Monica's bedroom door and then attempts to speak more softly. "Mon just seemed to be getting a little emotional. I guess seeing you having a kid and your mom was, well, your mom, it got Monica a little down. I thought I would, I don't know, cheer her up."

"By offering to sleep with her? Because I've seen what that does to women."

Chandler screws up his face in umbrage at Ross. "No! I just said all that stuff, you know, if she was still single at forty and wanted a kid that I would…"

Ross cuts him off as his voice booms through the apartment. "Be her back-up?"

Chandler gestures for Ross to lower his voice. "Shh! No. Well, yeah. I guess so."

"Wait? You don't think Monica will be married when she's forty? Why not? Is there something unmarriable about her?"

Chandler starts to wave his arms, crossing his fingers and forms an X, as if he were warding off Ross's line of questioning. "No-no-no! What is the problem with you Gellers and hypothetical situations?"

Ross shakes his head and then steps towards Chandler. "Anyway, look, you can't offer to be my little sister's back-up. Not without checking with me first. It's one of the rules."

"What?"

"You know, the code. No exes, no siblings, no relatives…"

Chandler interrupts Ross and smirks. "You mean, like no Mother-kissing?" Ross looks down sheepishly as Chandler brings himself closer to him. "Look. I was just trying to cheer her up. Distract her. I didn't mean it."

"Oh, so now you're just leading her on? Now she is out there thinking she has a back-up?"

Chandler shakes his head in frustration. "Will you please pick one thing to be upset about at a time!"

"Sorry. All I am saying is that if you want to be my sister's back-up, then you have to get my permission first. As your best friend and her brother. That's just the rule."

Chandler shakes his head as he looks over at Ross with wide, incredulous eyes. "Okay." He then puts his hand on Ross's shoulder. "Look man, you don't have to worry. I have no intention of doing anything with any of my friend's sisters ever. You have my word on that. Consider me a no-sister zone. Okay?"

Ross slowly nods. "Okay. I'm glad we cleared that up."

Chandler walks around the couch and steps into the kitchen. "Besides, Monica does not need a back-up. She'll be fine."

"Huh?"

Chandler leans up against the kitchen table and smiles. "I'm just saying, well, she's really hot. She has such a great body."

"Eww! Also, why are you checking out my sister's body?"

Chandler huffs and runs his hands through his hair in frustration. "No, that came out wrong. I'm just trying to say that she is the complete package. Monica is great. Smart, caring, kind, beautiful, funny, tough. She is not going to have a problem finding someone to spend the rest of her life with. She's every man's dream girl."

Ross reluctantly nods in agreement. "Yeah, she's great, although, she can be pretty tough to deal with. You know. You were there for the infamous 'gym socks' incident. I'm still not allowed to bring my duffel bag here."

Chandler shivers a bit at the memory but then looks over at Ross and waves him off with his hand. "Ahhh, that's just," He shakes his head as he searches his mind for the right words to say. "That's just part of the package. That's what makes her Monica, you know. That's what makes her special. It's what makes her so great. Your sister, she is really amazing. And when she finds that right guy who sees all of that, when you find someone who can love all those parts of you, even the parts you try to hide, well, that's the good stuff. That's when you know it's real."

Ross wrinkles his brow, confused by his friend's lucidity. "I'm sorry, who are you and what have you done with my friend Chandler."

"Oh, ha, ha." Chandler lets his fake laughter drip from his tongue, bathing the room in his sarcastic tone. "Hey, at least I didn't have a baby with a lesbian couple."

Ross nods and then shakes his head. "Touché."

Chandler lifts his shirt collar up to his face and inhales deeply. "All right, I think I need to change this shirt. I'll meet you two downstairs." Ross nods as Chandler leaves the apartment and then he sits down on the couch as he waits for his sister.

As if on cue, Monica steps out of her room and smiles at Ross. "Hey."

"Hey. You ready?"

"Uh, Not yet. I'll be right back." Monica glides through the apartment towards the door and as she exits the apartment, she leaves a slightly confused Ross in her wake. She steps out into the hall, closing the door behind her as she crosses over and enters Chandler and Joey's apartment.

"Hey. Chandler?"

Chandler steps out of his bedroom and she frowns as she looks at the wrinkled shirt he changed into. He smiles at her and steps towards her. "Hey, everything okay?"

"It is now." Monica nods and leans in and places one soft kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."

"For what?" Chandler flashes her a disarming smile as he tries to smooth out his shirt.

She exhales quickly and places her hand on his chest. "I heard you and Ross talking just now and I just wanted to say thanks. And also, well, you know, next time you want to make me feel better, just say those nice things about me in the first place, and maybe don't tell me that I will still be single when I am forty."

Chandler chuckles and nods. "Okay. I'll try to remember that. I'm not making any promises though."

Monica smiles up at him, her eyes still sparkling, and runs her hands up his chest as she starts to tug at the fabric of his shirt between her thumb and forefinger. "And you deserve that stuff too. What you were saying about someone accepting the whole package. It will happen for you too. I know it will."

"What'll happen?"

Monica steps back and furrows her brow, confused at his sudden obtuse behavior. "You'll find someone to fall in love with, you'll get married, have kids."

Chandler gasps and puts his hand to his chest. "Good God woman! Marriage? Kids? Why would you say something so nasty like that to me?"

Monica shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "You're right. I don't know what I was thinking." She steps back from him and turns around. "You know what? You're hopeless."

Chandler smiles and nods. "Thank you. I pride myself on that."

Monica reaches back and tugs on his shirt as she leads him towards the door. "Let's go, the others are probably starving."

Chandler follows her close behind and smiles as he looks down. The idea of that kind of commitment, even if only hypothetical, should be shooting wild panic throughout his entire being at this exact moment; paralyzing him where he stands. Yet, there is something reassuring about Monica's certainty that one day, he too will eventually overcome his fears and find someone to accept his flaws. That even he may be worthy of the kind of love that has eluded him all his life. He hopes that if that day ever does come, that he will be ready for it.


	29. Inarticulate Speech of the Heart

**Inarticulate Speech of the Heart**

"Okay, I got chicken soup, cough drops, vapor-rub, tea, extra tissues, and some congestion medicine with an antihistamine." Chandler closes the door behind him and puts the brown paper bag he was carrying down onto the kitchen table. He starts to remove and sort through the contents, spreading them out in front of him.

Monica pops her head up for a moment to look at him from the couch and lets out a cough. "Thanks. You didn't have to do dat doe."

Chandler pauses his movements and smirks. "Well I wanted to 'do dat'. Besides, if I am going to camp out here for the weekend, I might as well make myself useful. Now, what do you want first?"

Monica settles back, lies down and sniffles. "Soup please."

"Okay, one chicken soup coming right up." Chandler picks up the cup of soup, and walks it over to the coffee table, placing it down next to Monica who was laying on the couch underneath a blanket. He grabs a pillow from the chair and gestures for Monica to lift her head so she can prop herself up on it.

Monica reaches her hands out, signaling for him to hand her the soup. "Wow. I wish you liked all of Doey's girlfriends. I don't thig my mom treated me this good when I was sick."

"Well, it is either I hang out here and take care of you, or I sit around in my own apartment and listen to Joey and Kathy enjoy the weekend together and suffer some deep psychological damage." Chandler exaggerates a shudder that travels across his shoulders and then begins to lower himself down onto the big comfy chair.

"Spoon?"

"Right!" He leaps up before he actually sits down and hops into the kitchen.

"An' maybe a nabkin."

"We're all out of 'nabkins'. How about a napkin?"

Monica huffs as she shakes her head. "If you are just going to make fun'd of me, you can go back to your own abardmend."

"No can do. It's me and you all weekend. Otherwise I would be wandering the streets like a pariah. I refuse to stay in my own 'abardmend'. The walls are way too thin." Chandler walks back over, handing Monica a spoon and places a few napkins down on the table. "Plus. I rented some movies for us earlier this afternoon while you were napping. What do you say to a Keanu Reeves marathon?"

Monica shrugs. "Sure. Did you get 'Point Break'?"

Chandler frowns a bit and pulls up the plastic Blockbuster bag from the floor next to the chair. "No. It was already rented, but I did get 'A Walk in the Clouds'."

Monica looks down as disappointment flashes across her face. "Well, did you at least get 'Bill and Ted?"

Chandler reaches back into the back and reluctantly pulls out another VHS tape. "Sure, if by 'Bill and Ted' you mean 'Even Cowgirls Get the Blues'."

"This is why we never let you rent the movies." Chandler shrugs and puts his feet up as he turns the television on. Monica leans forward to take a sip of her soup and then looks back at him. "You really like her, huh?"

Chandler shakes his head and looks down. "I don't know. I know I think I could like her. She's really funny and interesting and we can talk for hours. The other night, we had the best conversation. We have so much in common. I can't stop thinking about her."

"I'm sorry sweetie. What are you going to do?"

"Swallow my feelings and live on your couch. The usual."

Monica chuckles as she takes another sip of soup. "Maybe you only thig you like her. Maybe this is just you ready to be in a relationshib."

"You think?"

"Maybe."

"I don't know if I am ready for that. When you're in a 'relationshib' you have to commit to being there for someone whenever they need you. I don't know if I am looking for that level of responsibility."

"You take care of the chick and dub."

"I don't think I can put a girlfriend in the tub like I do with the 'dub'."

Monica glares at him and shakes her head. "I will drag you across da hall if you keeb doing dat."

"Fine." Chandler looks over at Monica and studies her for a moment. His eyes narrow and his brow wrinkles as his gaze falls to the shirt she is wearing.

"Hey! Is that my sweatshirt?"

"Doe. Dis is my faborite shirt."

"Okay, first, that is my sweatshirt. I've been looking for it for over a year. Second, please, for the love of God, blow your nose."

Monica twists her lips into a corkscrew frown and places the cup of soup back on the coffee table. "Fine'd, but don't look."

"Don't look?"

"Yeah, I don't like peeble seeing me all snotty like dis."

Monica takes a few tissues and starts to vigorously blow her nose. Chandler jumps back, startled by how loud the sound is. He then shakes his head and looks at the television as he starts to flip through the channels. "Monica. I've seen you in worse shape. Hell, I've seen you in your laundry day underwear."

Monica straightens up as her eyes go wide. "What! No you didn't!"

"Yes, I did. It was right after Phoebe moved out. We were going to do laundry and I walked in here and you ran from the bathroom to your bedroom yelling at me not to look at you."

Monica folds her arms and fumes. "And you looked anyway!"

"In my defense, you were in your underwear and I was young and you're hot and I just got done watching an episode of Baywatch. But don't worry, once I saw those giant grandma bloomers, I turned away."

Monica huffs and takes another sip of her soup. "Now I'm keeping your shirt."

Chandler turns to her and points. "Aha! I knew that was my shirt! I want it back!"

Monica begins to run her hands over her arms as she feels the fabric. "But it's so soft and warm."

"That's why it's my favorite shirt."

"Okay. I'll wash it and give it back." Monica hesitates for a moment and starts to intimate the beginning of a sneeze. Chandler quickly grabs a tissue and holds it for her to take. After a few false starts, she finally shoves her face into the crook of her arm, letting go with a loud, wet sneeze.

Chandler looks at her, tissue in hand, and shakes his head. "Well, I don't want it back now!" He drops the tissue and eyes her suspiciously. "You did that on purpose."

"Noooo." Monica settles back into the couch as a triumphant smile slowly spreads across her lips.

* * *

Chandler charges into his old apartment, gesticulating wildly as he looks around until his eyes finally land on Monica. "What do I do!"

Monica turns around, wearing yellow rubber gloves while holding a bottle of furniture polish. "What?"

Chandler stops in his motions and looks around the apartment again. His brow furrows in puzzlement. "Didn't we used to have carpeting in here?"

Monica turns her head back to the coffee table and wipes down the legs with a rag. "Chandler. I'm very busy right now."

Chandler starts to inhale through his nose, sniffing around the room. "Did you paint in here?"

Monica smiles proudly and then turns around to face him once more. "You haven't seen nothing yet. Wait until I'm done. You won't recognize this place."

Chandler, clearly unimpressed, shrugs his shoulders. "Okay." He then shakes his head as if to rattle his thoughts together. "I need your help."

Monica sighs impatiently and starts to tap her foot as she crosses her arms. "What's your problem now?"

"Kathy. I think maybe I made a huge mistake."

"What kind of mistake?"

"Well, I talked to Joey and we had this entire conversation about," he raises his fingers up and signal air quotes, "the heat."

"What?"

"You know, the heat."

"Actually, no, I don't know."

Chandler huffs and walks over to sit on the couch. "Well, I might have jumped the gun on the whole 'Kathy is sleeping with Nick' thing."

Monica closes her eyes and shakes her head in disbelief. "Oh my god Chandler. You have to go fix this."

"How?"

Monica rips off her gloves and places them down on the counter and then sits down next to him. "You have to go over there, and apologize and, you better do something either really cute or buy her something really expensive."

"Really? I should go over there? How do I know she even wants to see me?"

"Are you kidding me? Up until now, where you apparently went crazy, you've been an amazing boyfriend. We've all said so. You just have to show her you aren't crazy anymore."

"Really? You think that'll work?"

Monica places both her hands on his arm. "This won't fix itself, and if she isn't coming to you then you have to go to her. Now march on over there, kiss some serious butt and go get that girl back!"

"I'm gonna do it. I mean, you're right. I have been a great boyfriend. What's one little slip up?" Chandler claps his hands together tightly and begins to nervously rub them against each other.

"I don't know if I would call it little. You did accuse her of cheating on you."

Chandler, losing his momentum, stares at Monica. "What?"

"It is kind of a big deal."

"So, then, she isn't going to take me back?"

Monica starts to bob her head side to side. "Just go and apologize. Let her know that you know what you did that made her so mad. That's what we want. It shows us that we're on the same page; that you are listening to us."

"Is this about Kathy or is it about you?"

Monica stands up and grabs Chandler by the arm, dragging him off the couch. "Will you just go to her and make up."

Chandler nods and starts to bounce around on the balls of his feet. "Okay! I'm going to go. I'm just gonna do it." His movements become more erratic as he starts to rock his entire body.

"Get it out of your system now big guy, because this," Monica points at Chandler and gestures at the wild movements he is making. "will not go over well."

Chandler calms down and nods. He then glances around the apartment one more time and shoot Monica an inquisitive look. "Was the counter always this color?"

Monica places both hands on his back, forcing him out the door. "Go!"

* * *

Monica slowly opens the door to Chandler and Joey's apartment and peeks inside. "Hello. Is it safe to come in?"

Chandler glares at her for a moment and then sips from his coffee mug. "Hey, yeah. Come on in."

"Oh, you aren't still mad are you?"

"About what? That you stole our apartment or that my room now smells like dead flowers."

"Do you know what your room smelled like before I moved in there?"

"I know it didn't smell like my Aunt Linda's perfume."

Monica walks over to the counter and looks around. "If it makes you feel any better, my room still smells like salami. Did Joey eat in there?"

"There is no room that Joey doesn't eat in. Why do you think we have a jar of mustard in the bathroom?"

Monica shivers at the thought and then slowly nods. She looks down at Chandler's coffee mug. "What are you doing? We have coffee over at our place. And breakfast. Are you sure you're still not mad?"

"I'm sure. I just have to get out early. I'm going to need to get ahead of work these next few weeks if I'm going to be able to go to London for Ross and Emily's wedding."

"Okay. You are sure it isn't because we took our apartment back?"

Chandler, against his instincts, allows a half-smile to spread across his lips. "I'll always be mad about that, but no."

Chandler returns his attention to his breakfast of buttered toast and coffee. Monica studies him for a few moments and brings her hands up to her chin. "Is everything okay?"

Chandler looks down and sighs. "Yeah, I guess ever since Ross told us he was going to marry Emily, I, well, I kind of started thinking about Kathy again."

Monica's mouth opens a bit as her eyes go wide. "Really? I thought you got over all of that."

"No, I did. I was just wondering, ah, you know what, forget it."

Monica walks around the counter and grabs Chandler by the hand. "What is it? You can tell me."

"Okay, but just, don't tell the others, okay?"

"Okay."

Chandler slips from Monica's grasp and starts to pace around the living room. "I guess I'm just wondering if maybe Kathy was my chance at all that and I blew it."

"All what?"

"You know, what Ross has."

Monica furrows her brow. "Are you talking about getting married?"

"No, I mean, sort of. Look, I don't want to get married or anything, I just wonder, if maybe she was my only chance at that being a possibility." He slowly walks back to the counter and begins to spin his mug around. "How often do you get to find someone you make a connection with. What if that was my last chance and I blew it all because of some stupid fight?"

"Honey, I don't think that's how it works. Look at me. Do you think I blew it?"

"What do you mean?"

"With Richard. I broke up with him. Do you think I lost out on my only chance to get married? To find someone?"

"Well, no, but that's different."

"Why?"

"Because of how hot you are."

Monica laughs and slowly nods. "Oh, so I just wait around until some guy finds me hot enough to go out with?"

"Pretty much. Trust me, it won't take long."

Monica tries to suppress a smile as she slowly shakes her head. "Look Chandler, maybe you should think about the Kathy stuff in a different way."

"You mean, other than as that time I had my heart ripped out and thrown out a thirty-story window before a garbage truck ran it over?"

"Yes." Monica turns her head, and despite her best efforts, sneaks out a smile in reaction to Chandler's joke. "Maybe this was just something you needed to go through to make you finally realize that you want what Ross has now with Emily. That you want commitment, and love and, maybe, what happened with Kathy will help you when you get to your next relationship."

Chandler looks down at his coffee and nods. "You know, you're probably right. There's probably another girl out there who will realize that I'm not a terrible guy."

Monica shakes her head. "See, there you go."

Chandler looks over at her and glares. "That was where you were supposed to say 'Chandler! You're a great guy'."

"Oh, right." Monica reaches over and gently places her hand on his chest, compelling him to make eye contact with her. "Chandler. You're a great guy."

* * *

Chandler finishes putting his pajamas on and looks over at Joey's empty bed.

"Leave it to Joe to find a girl to sleep with in London."

He chuckles to himself and sits down on the edge of the bed. He looks around at his empty, quiet hotel room, and shakes his head with a roguish smile on his lips. For some strange reason, he feels quite at peace with the way this evening has worked out. Despite some lingering resentment he may still feel for the guests who did not laugh at any of the jokes in his speech at tonight's rehearsal dinner, he is calm. Content. Dare he say it, he is even being overwhelmed with a strange feeling of optimism. It was very unsettling.

Normally, when Joey would slip off to his room with one of his dates for the night, Chandler would be picking apart at every perceived imperfection in himself that he could find. He would frustrate himself as he tried to figure out why Joey got the girl and he got the empty bed. He would spend hours stewing in jealousy at how easy it seemed for his friend. Not only had he found himself a willing partner for the night, but he also lucked into procuring every romantic accessory he would need to ensure himself an evening that, to Joey may have been routine, but for Chandler, would be considered one of the greatest nights of his life. He should be sitting here right now, filled with resentment, knowing that there was not much he would not do for a chance to eat strawberries off a gorgeous, naked woman.

Yet, tonight, he feels none of that, and he is not sure why. Being jealous of Joey is as integral a part of Chandler as being sarcastic. Wanting to be his roommate and have the opportunity to bask in the glory of his many sexual conquests, had always been a source of Chandler's particular brand of self-loathing, but lately, something has changed.

His mind suddenly went to Monica, and her sour mood this evening. He was not surprised that Ross getting married had dragged out some of her own insecurities about her future, but tonight was different. She sounded different. She was not just lamenting her lack of a boyfriend, or her prospects at marriage, which was fairly common for her; she was signaling defeat. She was giving up.

It was ludicrous. This was Monica. Gorgeous, amazing, kind, caring, nurturing, Monica. How could she ever think that she would end up alone? When he left her at her room, he wished he had succeeded in cheering her up. That he could have articulated himself better tonight, that he could have made her see herself the way he does. That they could switch places and she could see how she looked through his eyes. She had always been there for him, to try and guide him from falling victim to his own worst impulses. Especially over this last year, the least he could do was try and return the favor.

Then, like a hard slap, it hit him. His eyes went wide as he began to realize what had changed within him, and why he was not that particularly broken up about Joey and his bridesmaid. He knows now why he does not want what Joey has. It was because he had done that already and failed. It was because of Kathy.

Suddenly, his blissful mood melts away and a familiar sting of panic starts to run through him like a wave. Chandler decides to stand up quickly, finding himself having trouble reconciling where his thoughts were going. Joey. Bridesmaid. Strawberries. No one laughing. Gorgeous women. Titanic. Kathy. Monica. Ross. Emily. Marriage. Being ready. His mind like a swirling tornado making him dizzy. He cannot seem to put them in order and figure out what his own brain is trying to tell him. Did he want a one-night stand? Did he want a girlfriend? Did he want to get married? Did he want strawberries? Did he want to see if Titanic was available to order from the hotel's movies on demand menu?

He starts to shake his head vigorously. It had to be the two drinks he had that were now messing with his mind, or perhaps listening to Monica go on about being alone. Maybe he just snagged onto his memories of Monica insisting to him, over the course of the entire Kathy fiasco, that he was ready for more than just a fling or a one night stand.

"I'm just going to work out. A few push-ups before bed. Clear my head."

Chandler stops himself and looks around the room.

"I'm talking to myself. That's not a good sign."

Chandler got down on the ground, only succeeding in eking out one, slow, painfully ineffective push-up. He quickly stands up again and, realizing how fruitless the idea of working out is, decides to climb into bed.

He convinces himself that blissful slumber is what he needs.

He needs sleep.

No more thinking.

No more Kathy or bridesmaids or strawberries.

No more thoughts about what he really wants when it comes to women and relationships.

No more wishing that he could be having the best night of his life with some gorgeous woman in his arms.

And most definitely, no wondering if he will ever, one day, be ready for what Ross and Emily have.

Sleep. Wonderful, glorious, blissfully ignorant, sleep.

Chandler closes his eyes, pulling the covers over his body. He can already feel his mind slowing down. _"This is what you need. A good night's sleep. You're probably just jet-lagged. You're probably..." _

Chandler's eyes spring open as he hears a knock on the door to his room. He looks over and sighs as he gets out of bed. He reluctantly shuffles over to the door to see who it is.

"_Are you kidding me right now? Can this night get any worse?"_


	30. Something to Talk About

**Something to Talk About**

Chandler clumsily maneuvered his way through the busy Manhattan sidewalk, a dejected expression on his face as he hung his head down low. He was too busy lamenting this evening's turn of events to pay attention to the other passersby that scowled as he brushed past them. His thoughts were occupied with self-doubt and self-pity and he could not seem to care about strangers that he would never see again.

Tonight started out promising. He had a date with an attractive woman who worked in his building that he had been interested in for the last couple of months. He started to go into work early in order to ride the elevator with her every morning, and after a few weeks of some flirtatious body language between the two of them, he finally found the courage to actually say something to her. It was just a quiet "hello", but to him it was an accomplishment tantamount to the first man landing on the moon.

He spent the following three weeks after that first brief greeting devising a plan of action. On a nightly basis he conspired with Joey on what his next move should be. He rolled his eyes and shook his head as he remembered Joey's advice to tell her she had a nice rack as an icebreaker.

Instead of remarking on her body, Chandler decided he would take his time and he added a new word each day to their dialogue. "Hello" became "Good Morning." "Good Morning" became "Nice weather, right?". That was followed up with "What time is it?". It took him nine days to finally ask her what her name was. It was another four days until he actually told her his own name, having forgotten to introduce himself. After two-and-a-half weeks of these incremental increases in conversation, he finally asked her out for a drink after work.

They met at a bar close to her neighborhood, and they talked for ten minutes as their first drink arrived. They told each other about where they went to school, where they grew up, their favorite bands. Then, the conversation dried up. Neither one of them felt any kind of connection. Chandler knew he was in for trouble when he resorted to reading the late-night snack menu to her as if it were a news bulletin. She drank down her glass of wine quickly and then excused herself to the bathroom. She never returned.

Chandler sat at the bar for forty minutes, trying to convince himself, against all evidence to the contrary, that she would be back at any moment. As time wore on, he became resigned to his fate and thought about staying to drown his dating sorrows and watch the other women as they entered the bar. He fantasized and let his mind play tricks on him that he might actually have a shot with one of the handful of women that were already there and take one of them home for the night, even though he knew he would never find the fortitude to actually speak to any of them.

He resigned himself to accept defeat and acknowledged that his night was over before it had barely begun. He did not really want to go home yet and he remembered that Iridium was just a few blocks away. It was almost 10pm and Monica would no doubt be getting off work soon. He nodded to himself and decided walking home and poking fun at his terrible dating record would be more enjoyable with her than if he allowed himself to do it all on his own. He grabbed his coat and stepped out onto the sidewalk. He spun around as he tried to get his bearings and started his short journey to his new destination.

When he reached the restaurant, he slowly opened the door and looked around. There were still a few people seated at some tables who were no doubt eating a late supper and enjoying a glass of wine with someone they loved or thought they could love. It appeared to him that everyone in New York was having a wonderful date night except for him. He shook his head and cursed all the happy loving couples in the tri-state area.

He brought his gaze to the prep station behind the counter where Monica would normally be, and smiled as he saw her there in her white chef's coat and hat. She was chopping some sort of vegetable and dropping the cut pieces into a bowl next to her. Her eyes never leaving her task. She even seemed to smile to herself upon every new ingredient that she successfully prepared and added to the mix.

He got a kick out of watching her, and marveled at how seriously she took her work and yet was still able to enjoy it. He had witnessed all of her ups-and-downs so far as she tried to forge a career in the culinary arts, and he remembered how excited she was as she ran into his apartment, needing someone to congratulate her on her first job at a real restaurant. He was the first person she had told, and he took her out for dinner to celebrate. He was surprised at how good he felt. It was as if her happiness was infectious. He looked down as he realized why she came to mind as his evening disintegrated into yet another dating cliché, his subconscious mind knew that he could use some of her positive energy around him tonight.

He did not want to disturb her, but he began to feel more self-conscious with each second that went by, as he stood there and stared at his friend. It must have looked odd to anyone else who may have spied him there. Some overdressed stalker targeting the hot chef. He finally stepped towards the counter and cleared his throat.

"Health inspector! Reach for the sky!"

Monica looked up at him and wrinkled her brow in confusion. "What?"

Chandler shrugged his shoulders and placed his hands in his pockets. "I don't actually know what health inspectors do."

Monica turned her eyes back down and focused on her work. "What are you doing here? I thought you had a hot date? How did it go?"

Chandler pulled out one hand from his pocket and looked at his watch. "Well, seeing as it is now ten and the date started at nine, I'm going to say, not that good."

Monica looked up and offered him a pair of sympathetic eyes. "Aw. I'm sorry sweetie."

"Anyway, I thought, since I was in the area, and it was almost closing time, that I'd walk home with you."

Monica frowned and gestured with her head towards the lobby of the restaurant. "I'd love that, but it is still busy. I might not get out of here for another hour."

Chandler looked around and saw a newspaper folded up behind the host's station. "Oh, uh, well maybe I'll grab a bite myself. The date ended before we got to eat. Is that okay?" He reached over and grabbed the newspaper, tucking it under his arm.

Monica nodded. "Sure. How about you go sit down over there and I'll whip something up for you."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. We dating disasters have to stick together, right?"

Chandler chuckled lightly and bobbed his head up and down. He turned and slowly walked towards the empty table Monica had directed him to as he looked around the restaurant one more time. Monica pushed the salad she was preparing aside and took out a piece of salmon and began to sprinkle some salt, pepper and lemon zest on it.

"Mmmm. Who is that tall drink of water?"

Monica looked up and smiled as Paula joined her at the station. "Who?"

Paula took the salad, and began to squeeze a lemon wedge over it. She gestured with her chin at Chandler and smiled. "Him."

Monica smirked and laughed. "Chandler?"

"You know that guy?"

"Yes. He lives in my building. I know I've told you about him." Monica grabbed a pair of tongs and put some of the salad from the bowl in front of Paula on a small plate. "He came by to walk home with me after we close up." Monica maneuvered past Paula and around the counter, walking over to Chandler.

Paula watched as Monica placed her hand gently on his shoulder and leaned over him to put the salad she prepared in front of him. Chandler looked up and smiled warmly at her and she gave him a squeeze. His head rested against her hip as she ran her hand through his hair. They talked for a few more minutes and she heard Monica laugh. Paula then strained her ears to eavesdrop.

"Thanks."

"No problem. I have something special for you to make you forget all about tonight."

"Is it a naked woman?"

Monica rolled her eyes and shook her head as she tried to suppress a smile. "No. It's lemon pepper salmon with some roasted potatoes and capers."

Chandler looked down at his plate of salad and then back up at her. "Oh. I guess that's kind of the same thing."

Monica shook her head one more time and turned around to return back to the prep station. Paula looked down and smiled as she shook her head. Monica returned to her position behind the counter and hummed as she reached underneath and pulled up a small bowl of capers. She placed the salmon on the flat grill next to her along with a handful of fingerling potatoes that had been cut in half.

Paula returned her attention to the salad she was mixing and clicked her tongue. "I'm sorry Monica. I didn't realize he was with you."

"What?" Monica narrowed her eyes as she drizzled some olive oil over the potatoes from a squeeze bottle, She then used a wooden spoon to toss them around on the grill.

"You and handsome Dan over there."

"Chandler?" Monica started to trill off laughter and shook her head. "No. We are definitely not together."

"You mean he came here dressed in a suit, looking all fine, and now you're making him your special dish that you told me is why they hired you here, and nothing is going on?"

Monica, kept her eyes on the food she was cooking and snickered. "With Chandler? Oh, no. We're friends."

"Girl, I do not understand you. You spend half your time at work complaining about never finding a guy to date and you have this one right here and that Italian guy you told me about living across the hall from you."

Monica shook her head and rolled her eyes. "Don't get me started on Joey. I mean, he's a nice guy and all, but he's a pig. I would never even think about dating Joey."

"I know. You told me all about the lemonade incident."

Monica winced as she continued to slide the potatoes around. "I still can't drink that anymore without gagging."

Paula laughed, took the salad bowl and placed on the counter. She turned to face Monica and watched her as she sprinkled a pinch of pepper onto the salmon. "So, that Italian fella ain't boyfriend material. What about him?" She pointed with her thumb at Chandler, who was taking small bites from the salad as he read the paper. "I mean, look how carefully he is eating that salad. He even has a napkin in his lap. That's right up your alley."

"Oh, I don't want to give you the wrong impression about him. He's great. He's really sweet and kind and funny and he looks out for me, but, we're just friends." Monica looked over at Chandler and smiled. "Sure, he's handsome, in a kind of boyish way, but, well, I don't know. I don't think about him like that. He's just Chandler to me."

"Boyishly handsome is not a bad thing sweetheart."

"I know. We're friends though. Best friends. You don't think about your best friend like that. Plus, you're seeing this version of him." Monica gestured towards Chandler with her spatula and then returned her attention to the potatoes on the grill, adding a few pieces of sliced onion. "All dressed up and on his best behavior. You don't know how immature he can be. He's a slob. He can be really superficial with women. Do you know, he wouldn't date a girl because she never wore sneakers? He said you can't trust someone who doesn't like their feet to be comfortable."

Paula laughed. "I hate to break it to you darling, but that's what guys are like. They're immature, and they don't always think with their head. More times than not, they'll just think about themselves and not care whose feelings they step on along the way. A good man with a kind heart and a handsome face is not a bad thing to have in your life. Plus, he's tall. I like that."

Monica chuckled. "Hey, you are more than welcome to him. I can put in a good word for you."

"Me? I already have too many irons in the fire to add another one. Plus, I would break a young thing like that. He'd be useless for the next woman."

Monica giggled as she grabbed a twig of rosemary and began pulling off the tiny leaves and sprinkling them over the potatoes. She looked over at Chandler and then leaned towards Paula as she lowered her voice. "You know, when I first met him, I kind of got this little crush on him. He was this older college boy who came home with my brother, and he looked so ridiculous. But I was young and stupid and I thought he was so handsome."

"Really? Did anything happen?"

"Yeah. He called me fat. That was the end of that. Like I said, I was young and stupid."

Paula winced and shook her head. "News alert Mon, you're still young and you're probably going to do more stupid things. Especially when it comes to men."

"I don't want to do stupid things though. I want someone mature, who is ready to make a commitment and who knows what they want in life." She pointed at Chandler again with her spatula. "I don't think that will ever be him. Even if it were, we would never work out. Believe me. You don't know him like I do. Great friend, but not boyfriend material."

Paula nodded as the two women continue to work in silence. Monica removed the salmon from the grill and placed it on a plate, adding a few capers to the top and one more twist of the black pepper grinder. Carefully focused on the aesthetic of the dish.

Paula looked over Monica's shoulder and nodded. "That looks real good. Are you sure nothing is going on between you two? Because I do not cook that good for a man unless he's paying for dinner or he's sleeping with me."

Monica laughed one more time and playfully slapped Paula n the arm. "Will you stop it."

Paula raised her hands up in surrender and smiled. "Okay. Don't sue me because I like the idea of seeing two attractive young people together."

Monica began putting the potatoes onto the plate, arranging them around the salmon, almost creating a symmetrical image. She looked down proudly once she was finished. "Hey, I'd love to be with someone who is attractive. If you see someone else, let me know."

Paula chuckled and then placed a slice of lemon over the top of the salmon. Monica smiled at her as she inspected the plate. "There. Now it looks perfect for your not-boyfriend, boyfriend."

Monica narrowed her eyes at Paula, yet allowed a smile to spread across her lips. "Look, Chandler is really great, and I don't know what I would do without him, but we are just friends. We don't think about each other like that. Plus, we are totally incompatible. He doesn't even know what a dust ruffle is!" Monica picked up the plate, walked around Paula and stopped at the entranceway to the lobby. "Dating someone you are friends with never works anyway. Remember, I did that already with Kip. What Chandler and I have, it's too important to screw with by thinking about each other romantically."

Paula raised a skeptical eyebrow and folded her arms. "Mmm-hmm."

"I'm being serious. The last thing you should ever do is go out with someone you are friends with. It makes everything messy and hurts everyone involved. People stop being friends and your entire social circle crumbles." Monica stepped out to the other side and turned to look at Paula one more time. "Plus, he is not my type."

"Okay! Okay! Well go give your friend his dinner that you made special just for him."

"Stop it! I'm just being nice. He had a rough night."

Paula chuckled to herself and watched as Monica walked over to Chandler's table. She washed her hands and leaned against the counter as she observed Chandler's face light up when Monica placed the plate in front of him. He said something she could not hear, but it must have been a compliment of some kind, because she noticed Monica's cheek turn red and she played with her fingers down by her side.

Monica then placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned over him, pointing at what was on the dish. She heard Monica laugh and Chandler looked up at her and smiled. Monica slapped Chandler lightly on the back of the head and he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him as she leaned on him. She pulled at the fabric of his suit jacket as they talked and then she nodded and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

* * *

When the last customer left for the night, Paula turned to Monica and elbowed her gently. "Hey, I got this. Why don't you go home? He finished eating about a half-hour ago. Now he's just waiting there like some lost puppy."

Monica wiped her hands on a towel and turned to face her. "Are you sure?"

"Are you kidding? You did more than half of the work already. I just have to put these in the walk-in. Go home. Cheer up your friend."

Monica nodded and thanked her as she took off her hat, unbuttoned her jacket, and tossed it over her shoulder. Paula watched as she walked over to Chandler who smiled and stood up as soon as she approached him. When they reached the front door, Chandler removed his suit jacket and wrapped it around Monica's shoulder. She shimmied into it and closed it around herself. Chandler took her coat and hat and carried them for her as they walked out the door.

Paula shook her head and laughed to herself as she looked down and began to organize some of the items on the prep table. She lifted her gaze back up to the front of the lobby and saw Monica turn to wave goodbye to her through the glass door. Chandler bumped his shoulder into her playfully, whispering something to her and Monica shook her head. She huddled up close to him for more warmth and smiled ear-to-ear as they walked past the large picture window of the restaurant. Once they were out of sight, Paula picked up a few of the aluminum tins from the table and rolled her eyes.

"Just friends my ass."


	31. Let It Be Me

**Let It Be Me**

**Spring 1992**

Ross opens the door to apartment twenty and walks into the kitchen as he looks towards the living room to see if anyone is there. He tilts his head inquisitively as he notices Chandler sitting on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table, watching television. He reaches into the cabinet, pulls out a mug, and makes his way over to the carafe on the counter, which thanks to his sister, he knows is filled with fresh brewed coffee. He pours himself a cup and grabs the sugar bowl.

"Hey dude, what are you doing here?"

Chandler turns his head and twists his lips into a crooked frown. "Dude? So, I guess you're committed to that?"

"Oh, come on. Dude. Duderino. Duder-rama. Dudemeister. It's so versatile."

Chandler lifts his eyebrows and shakes his head as he turns around to focus his attention back on the TV.

Ross finishes fixing up his cup of coffee and walks over to the back of the couch. "What's going on?"

Chandler sighs as he changes the channel. "The movers are coming for the rest of Kip's things and he is going to stop by to make sure they get everything. I figured I would hide out here until he was done."

"Really? Why?" Ross walks around the couch and sits next to Chandler, placing his coffee cup on the table.

"Because it is always better to avoid the awkward conversations than to actually have them." He changes the channel again with the remote and gestures towards Ross's mug. "You better put a coaster under that, or Monica will kill you when she gets back."

Ross looks around the apartment again. "Where is Monica?"

"She went to work."

"Now? It's like ten in the morning."

"She doesn't want to be here when Kip shows up either."

Ross nods slowly and slips a coaster under his cup. "Thanks for taking care of her during the break-up. You and Phoebe are real lifesavers. I really wish I was around more when that was all going down. Carol and I are just in this weird place, you know, and I really have to concentrate on my marriage."

Chandler nods without taking his eyes from the TV as he changes the channel again. "How is that going?"

"Well, I did some research and I read that married couples who fall into a rut should try to do things together outside of the house. Dance lessons, horseback riding, or join a gym. So, I thought, how about we both take a karate class?"

Chandler finally turns his attention away from the television long enough to shoot Ross an incredulous look. "What?"

"Yeah. I was thinking, we wear those sexy karate outfits.."

Chandler can't help but interrupt. "Sexy?"

Ross shoots Chandler a glare and continues. "We get all sweaty together, do some, uh, grappling. I think it will really give us the boost we need to reignite the flames of passion." Ross takes a triumphant sip of his coffee.

Chandler begins to cackle with delight. "Are you crazy? Your plan is to literally fight with your wife."

"Uh…."

"Good luck with that, dude." Chandler lets sarcasm drip from his words and changes the channel again.

Ross glares at Chandler and shakes his head. "You don't know what you're talking about. Carol will love it! And for God's sake will you please pick a channel!" He fidgets a bit in his seat and then looks back over at Chandler. "So, uh, Monica is okay?"

"Pretty much. She'll get there. I think. We're going to go down to the bar tonight for a drink and to play some pool. You think you guys can meet us?"

"I don't know, if everything goes right tonight at the dojo, I might be mastering the marital arts as well as the martial arts." Ross starts to chuckle smugly.

Chandler shakes his head. "Whatever dude."

**Fall 1996**

Ross walks into apartment twenty and smiles instantly as the familiar, warm and inviting aroma of Thanksgiving food fills the air. It snakes its way into his nostrils and almost knocks him over with delight. He removes his jacket, places it on the hook by the door and turns to smile at his sister, who is standing at the sink, straining water from a pot of potatoes.

"Wow, Monica. Everything smells so great already!"

"I know! I really think I am going to outdo myself this year."

Ross looks around and then pulls out a chair from the kitchen table to sit. "Where's Rach?"

"She is still in the shower. Also, be warned. If you sit here, you will be put to work."

Ross gets up quickly and walks briskly into the living room. "Did she just get in the shower or has she been in there a while?"

Monica places a large bowl filled with cooked potatoes on the table and grabs a mixer from the kitchen counter. "She is right at the halfway mark."

"Oh, okay, so I guess that means I won't see her for another hour."

"At least." Monica chuckles as she begins to prepare her first order of mashed potatoes. "You know, I could use a little help."

"What? But I'm already over here."

Monica shakes her head and scowls at her brother. "Can you at least turn on the TV so I can listen to the parade?"

Ross nods and picks up the remote. "Hey, when is everyone else coming over?"

"Phoebe is coming over around one, but Joey and Chandler should be here in about an hour. Everyone conveniently showing up after all the work is done."

"Okay! Fine! I'll help." Ross turns the television on before getting up and walking back into the kitchen. "What can I do?"

"Can you fold the napkins?"

Ross nods, picks up the napkins and starts to fold them. "Hey, how is Chandler doing? I keep meaning to check on him, but something with Rachel always comes up."

Monica eyes her brother as he folds, inspecting each finished napkin to ensure they are up to her standards. "Well, he's not great. All mopey and depressed. The other night, Joey had a date, so I had him come over; we watched Caddy Shack and Young Frankenstein and he hardly laughed!"

"Wow. It must be bad. Those are two of his favorite movies."

"I know! Anyway, I figured I would make him a special Thanksgiving dinner. I know he normally eats grilled cheese or mac and cheese, but I thought I would make him a nice chicken." Monica smiles proudly as she looks over her shoulder to the chicken that was prepped on the counter.

"A chicken?"

"Yeah. Something a little extra. You know what they say; food fixes everything."

Ross chuckles. "Mon, I think that was just you who used to say that."

Monica twists her face up and mocks her brother's tone as she continues mixing up the potatoes. "Anyway, I figure a nice, home-cooked meal will help him get over Janice."

"I don't know if chicken is really going to work."

"My chicken will."

"I'm glad you're here for him. I feel bad not being able to take him out or something like that. He's my oldest friend."

"Well, he has Joey, and I'm always here for him. You know I'll always take care of him."

"I know. He's lucky to have you looking out for him."

**Summer 1997**

Ross steps into apartment nineteen and looks around in hopes of finding one of its occupants still there, but instead, he finds that the kitchen and living room are empty. He bops his head side-to-side as he contemplates what his next move should be and then focuses his attention on the refrigerator. He nods slightly as he tosses his briefcase on top of the foosball table and grabs the handle to the fridge at the same time. He swings the door open and bends down to look inside, only to recoil once the smell of something that he assumes must have gone rotten fills his nostrils.

He twists his face up in disgust and shakes his head vigorously as he tries to shuffle off the foul odor. He brings his arm up to his mouth and starts to move objects around on the shelves, hoping to find the odorous culprit. He spies some old Chinese takeout boxes, a jar with a very suspect green, slushy liquid inside it, a bag that is filled with ham, a jar of pickles, a Tupperware container that has two olives in it, three beers and a bottle of Snapple.

He pulls out the Snapple and lifts it up to inspect it, but frowns when he sees it has already been opened and may or may not have something floating in it. He returns it to the fridge and closes the door, shaking his head in defeat and shuddering at the horrors he had witnessed inside.

"Hey man! What's up?"

He turns quickly and sees Chandler, who is slipping on his suit jacket as he steps out of his bedroom. Ross shakes his head and points at the refrigerator. "My god, you two have to do something about that."

"What?"

"Whatever smells like death in there! I swear something moved when I opened the fridge just now."

"Well, Joe is really in charge of the refrigerator. I sort of keep to the cabinets. Your cereals, your chips, your cans of soup, your spaghetti; you know, things like that." Chandler flattens his mouth and offers Ross a skeptical look as he raises his eyebrows. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I'm waiting for Rachel to leave for work before I go over there." Ross gestures with his thumb towards the door.

"Oh man, are we going through this again! I can't handle a second break up with you two." Chandler starts to pat his pockets down. "Where are my cigarettes?"

"Calm down! It isn't that, it's just, after the other night, I uh, I think we still need to cool off a bit. I promise, this is not going to be like last time when you guys were all caught in the middle. Rachel and I can be civil."

Chandler steps gingerly towards Ross and eyes him over. "You sure man?"

"Yeah…" his voice trails off as he darts his eyes up and gives Chandler a half-smile. He clears his throat so he can answer more confidently. "Yes. I promise."

Chandler nods and then walks over to the counter to gather his wallet and keys. "Well, I'm going to go over there. I'm hungry and there's nothing to eat in our fridge."

"Oh, there's something in there all right." Ross chuckles and shifts a bit between his feet. "Hey, with everything going on at the beach with Rachel and Bonnie and then back here the other night, I haven't really been able to check in on Monica. You were hanging out with her all week. How has she been doing after all the Pete stuff?"

Chandler looks down and twists his lips into an uneasy smile. "I think she is good. She's just down about being alone, you know?"

"You mean she's being Monica."

Chandler chuckles and nods. "Yeah, I guess."

"Well, uh, will you keep an eye on her? I would, but I think the less time I spend over there the better for now."

"Sure man. But you should know, Mon, she's good. She's tough."

"I know, but sometimes she can get so down about this kind of thing. You remember how she was with Richard."

Chandler nods. "Yeah, but this is different."

"I know."

Chandler looks down and flashes a sad smile. "She just needs to find the right guy."

Ross laughs under his breath and then shakes his head. "Good luck with that. She is not easy to please."

"Really? I don't know, I mean, I get that she can get all…Monica sometimes…but she's a catch."

"No, I know that, but she can be her own worst enemy when it comes to relationships. She has all these expectations about the guys she dates. Richard didn't want kids; she breaks up with him. Pete didn't want to keep all his original teeth or leave any of his bones unbroken; she breaks up with him."

"Take it from me, it is always better to be the break upp-er than the break upp-ee." Chandler chuckles again to himself. "You know, she shouldn't settle though, right? Monica wants what she wants, and she deserves to get it."

"Yeah, I guess. I just don't want her to be so picky that she ends up all alone, you know." Ross grabs his briefcase from the foosball table and turns towards the door. "All right, I think we wasted enough time. We probably should go over there."

Chandler nods. "You sure you're up for it?"

"Yeah, it's already nine, Rachel is going to be leaving any minute." Ross puts his hand on Chandler's shoulder. "Thanks for looking out for my sister while I was dealing with all of this Rachel stuff."

"She'd do the same for me."

**Winter 1998**

Ross walks into Apartment nineteen and is immediately taken aback by the inviting smell of fresh bacon and pancakes. He looks around and smiles as he notices the serving trays filled with food on his sister's kitchen table. Sliced fruit, bacon, pancakes, rolls, muffins, orange juice, coffee. It is a veritable cornucopia of breakfast delicacies. He smiles when he notices that Monica even has a vase filled with flowers as a centerpiece.

He reaches over to grab a piece of bacon and munches on it, moaning as he savors the perfectly cooked piece of meat. He drops his briefcase down on the chair next to him and turns around to face the refrigerator. He opens the door and pokes his head around. The shelves are stocked with food containers; each one labeled and facing out. There's milk, juice, bottled water, diet soda, and some iced tea neatly placed on the top rack.

"Hey Ross!"

Ross turns his head and sees Monica stepping out of the bathroom. She is wearing a smart pair of light purple pajamas and a red and black robe. She glides into the kitchen and smiles at her brother as he pulls out a small bottle of cranberry juice from the fridge.

"Hey! Wow. It smells and looks great in here!"

"I know!" Monica walks over to the cabinets and starts to pull out some coffee mugs.

"What are you up to?"

"Well, after work I'm going to see Emily again."

"Really? Wow. Is this getting serious?"

"What? Oh, I don't know. I'm not putting any pressure on it. I don't want another Carol situation, you know. The last thing I need is to jump into anything too serious."

Monica laughs as she places the cups on the table. "Ross. I'm sure you are only going to marry one lesbian."

Ross mocks laughter and shakes his head. "No really, I think my problems with Carol were that I rushed into the relationship. I was already thinking about marriage before college was over. This time, I'm just going to take it slooooowwww."

Monica rolls her eyes dismissively. "Okay."

"Hey, how is Chandler doing? I feel bad that I was off in Vermont when all the Kathy stuff went down, but I'm sure he understood."

Chandler? Yeah, He's in phase three or four, I don't know. But me and my girls took care of him."

"Really? You Phoebe and Rachel helped him get to phase four?"

"Yeah."

Ross looks Monica up and down suspiciously. "You went to a strip club?"

"They aren't as bad as I thought they would be. The low light helps hide a lot, and I actually came away with a couple of good Halloween costume ideas. Although, I'll probably look for stuff with a bit more coverage." Monica gestures towards her own body and covers herself instinctively.

Ross shakes his head and sits down at the table, grabbing a plate as he starts to place food on it. "I'm glad you were here. Chandler does better with you in these situations than me anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"When we used to deal with stuff like this back in college, we didn't really talk about things. We just got drunk and said mean stuff about the girls we broke-up with. With you, he gets actual advice and empathy."

"You two don't have empathy for each other?"

"Do you know any guys?"

Monica nods reluctantly in agreement. "He seems much better now, despite the occasional sarcastic comment."

"I was so surprised that he even went out with Kathy in the first place."

Monica sits down next to him as she pours herself some coffee. "How so?"

"Don't tell him I said this, but Chandler tends to go for women that either aren't available or are way out of his league. It's almost like he is so afraid to be in a relationship, that he picks women that he knows he has no shot at. You know, so it is over before it even begins."

"Really?"

"Sure. Look at the last two years. Janice was still married. Kathy was Joey's girlfriend. It's like he falls for these women that he won't have to invest himself in fully. Then when they fall apart, he gets all those bad impressions he has about relationships reinforced. I think he was probably just as surprised that it worked out with Kathy for as long as it did as we were." Ross takes another bite of bacon and nods to himself.

"Don't include me in that! I thought he was really sweet with her. I don't think he was cynical about their relationship at all."

Ross scoffs. "I remember this one time in college, he had this huge crush on this girl that Gandalf had gone out with a few times, but he never did anything about it, because of the rules. He tortured himself for months about it."

Monica twists her face up in confusion. "The rules?"

"Yeah. Guys have these rules. You can't date a friend's ex, or a girl who he is related to, or, uh, a girl he likes. So, he was able to spend all of junior year pining away for this girl that he was never going to ask out."

"That's stupid!"

"That's Chandler."

Monica shakes her head. "Not him! I mean you guys and your rules. You and Rachel went out, if we followed your stupid rules, that wouldn't have been allowed."

Ross tilts his head and looks up as he searches his mind. "Uh, well, they're more like guidelines."

"I don't know. I think if someone you care about has a chance to be happy, you shouldn't stand in their way just because of one of your stupid rules."

"I guess you have a point."

"You're damn right I have a point. What kind of friend to Rachel would I have been if I told her she couldn't date you? Or what kind of sister would I be to tell you who you could go out with?"

Ross grumbles under his breath but then nods reluctantly. "Okay, all right. I get it."

Monica waves her finger in Ross's face. "I know you better not get in the way of any of my relationships!"

"I don't think we have to worry about that. It isn't like you and Joey are gonna start dating."

**Spring 1998 – Ross and Emily's Rehearsal Dinner**

Ross stomps away from his parents' table again, exhaling angrily and mutters to himself. Before he can turn around to look where he is going, he bumps into Chandler, who deftly avoids having the two drinks he is carrying spill.

Chandler checks himself to ensure nothing splashed on him and then looks up at Ross. "Hey? You okay there?"

"What? Yeah, it's a whole thing with my dad and Emily's dad. I don't want to get into it." Ross looks over his shoulder at a table in the corner of the room and sees his sister sitting there, slumped over with a scowl on her face. "What's going on with Monica?"

"Huh, oh, ahhh, she's just a little down."

Ross rolls his eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh. "I really don't have time to deal with that now."

"That's okay. I got her. I'll hang out with her tonight. Joey took off already anyway. What else was I going to do? A little time with the Chan-Chan man and she'll be all right. Or, she will want to kill me and forget whatever else is bothering her."

Ross puts his hand on Chandler's shoulder. "Thanks man. You're a life saver. I don't know what I would do without you."

**Spring 1998 – The Morning of Ross and Emily's Wedding**

Ross steps out of his room and starts to walk briskly through the hallways. He looks back over his shoulder and smiles, knowing that tonight he will be moved to the honeymoon suite, where he and Emily will privately celebrate their wedding. He allows himself to swagger a bit, as he thinks about how he will finally be able to have sex with his fiancé, for the first time since he arrived in London. He stops when he reaches his sister's room and starts to knock on the door.

"Mon? You in there? Are you awake?"

When he went to sleep last night, he had resolved himself to check in on her in the morning. After seeing the state she was in when he bumped into Chandler, he knew he would not feel good about himself if he simply ignored it until after the wedding was over.

He waits for a few moments and presses his ear to the door in an attempt to listen for any sign of someone walking around inside the room.

"Unbelievable. I finally have a few minutes to check on her and she isn't even here!"

Ross steps away and looks down the hall towards where Joey and Chandler's room is. He nods to himself and pulls out his wallet. He flips through the billfolds until he find the spare keycard that Chandler gave him in the event Joey lost his.

He realizes, as with so many other times in the past, that he can check in with Chandler to make sure that Monica is all right. Always able to rely on him to look out for his sister whenever she was feeling down. He rolls his eyes as he remembers the image of her from the night before, with her arms folded and a scowl on her face. _"Leave it to Monica to try and make my rehearsal dinner all about her!"_

He wonders to himself exactly what could have even been wrong with her in the first place. She seemed so happy when they went to the hall the other night to show Emily how they decorated the venue. She beamed whenever they discussed details for the wedding. How could she have crashed so hard after being so high?

He shakes his head. _"Thank God for Chandler."_

He stops at Chandler and Joey's door and slips the keycard into the slot, but then hesitates for a moment. _"You know what, if there's a real problem, he'll tell me. He and Monica have gotten so close over the years, she doesn't need me looking out for her too. Besides. I'm getting married today! I don't have time to deal with all this."_

He pauses and smiles as he looks down. _"I'm getting married today!"_

In one motion he excitedly unlocks and swings the door open. Today isn't a day to deal with drama and heartache. It isn't the time to dwell on the past. Today is about a celebration, and Ross was going to celebrate. _"Chandler has always been good at giving Monica what she needs. I'm sure he took care of her last night too!"_

He steps inside the room, just at the doorway and begins to yell enthusiastically.

"I'm getting married today!"

* * *

A/N: I went through all the chapters in this story and reworked them. Mostly to fix errors I caught, or poorly worded sentences. Sometimes to fix dialogue. I don't know how, but I ended up with about 25,000 more words.

I'm not saying anyone has to go back and reread anything, but, I do think, on average, there's at least three new jokes a chapter. That's not bad value!

Actually, all I wanted to do was clean up some obvious spelling issues, past/present tense mix-ups, spelling errors, things like that. There were a lot in those early chapters. I mean, a lot, like, I have no idea why anyone kept reading these chapters kind of errors that no doubt most people who have English as a second language caught, because you people know the rules much better than we do.

I want to thank Babatomyfriends for going through these and catching even more errors, which while a blow to my self-esteem, is invaluable in making these little stories better. She is probably already writing to tell me how bad I messed this chapter up right now! Ha, ha.

I am hoping to do this with most of my older chapters and stories, just so the reading experience is improved for everyone. I am also going to keep updating my other stories, I have a few chapters in the pipeline right now and they should be out soon.

As always, thank you so much for reading, and thanks to everyone who gives me feedback. I really appreciate it.


	32. Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover

**Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover**

Chandler leaned over and placed a soft kiss on Kathy's cheek. "Okay babe, I gotta go to work."

Kathy smiled at him and blushed as he stroked her knee before he stood up. He turned to Monica and Rachel, who were seated on the orange couch next to each other and gave them both a nod as a goodbye and quickly made his way to the door. He looked back one more time and shared one last smile with Kathy before he walked out of Central Perk.

Kathy followed him with her eyes as he walked past the large picture window in the front of the building, and once he was out of sight, she looked down and smiled to herself.

"Wow, someone has got it bad."

Kathy looked up at Rachel and laughed as she tilted her head bashfully. "Is it that obvious?"

Monica leaned forward to grab her coffee mug and smirked. "Are you kidding me? I've always heard the term 'making goo-goo eyes', but I don't think I ever actually saw it."

Kathy shook her head and smiled. "What can I say? I'm smitten."

Rachel gestured with her thumb towards the door of the coffee shop. "With Chandler?"

Monica rolled her eyes and glanced over at Rachel. "Don't mind her."

Kathy nodded and laughed.

Monica bit her lower lip and then slid over closer to Kathy, who was still sitting on one of the chairs by a high-top table. "But, really? Chandler?"

Kathy smiled and shook her head. "Yes. He's amazing."

Rachel scooted up and sat on the edge of the couch. "Really? That guy?"

"Really."

The three women sat in silence for a few moments and sipped at their coffee. Rachel glanced at Monica and then looked back at Kathy.

"We have to know. How?"

Kathy looked at both women incredulously. "What?"

Monica pat Rachel's knee as she sat up. "Look, we all love Chandler. He's sweet and kind, but, well, we never really get to see him do the whole boyfriend thing that often. Or that well."

Rachel nodded along. "Yeah. What's that like?"

Kathy laughed and sat back. "Oh, well, uh, like you said, he's very sweet. He's really smart, but in a way that doesn't seem like he is showing off. And he does all these little things that let you know he's listening to you, and he is very charming. I mean, you guys know."

Monica and Rachel slowly nodded as they listened. Rachel then shook her head. "No. We don't. To us, Chandler is the guy who makes weird noises."

Kathy chuckled again. "Well, he is charming. And he's fun. He makes it so easy to feel comfortable, and we laugh. I don't know if I've ever laughed this much with someone that I was going out with."

Rachel tilted her head and twisted up her face into a confused expression. "Wait, so you picked Chandler over Joey because he tells funny jokes?"

Monica shoved Rachel and glared at her. "Rachel!"

Kathy looked over at them and the three women fell into an awkward silence.

Monica rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry. I know it is probably uncomfortable to talk about this with us."

"No. I mean, yes, it is; but I knew eventually something might come up. It is weird. To date two different guys who are friends is hard enough. But roommates too? And to have all you guys know, and you all hang out with each other all the time. I get it. There's no way you guys aren't all thinking about it."

Rachel turned sharply towards Monica. "See, it was bound to come up!" She then turned back to Kathy. "So, uh, like I said, Chandler?"

Kathy couldn't help but laugh again. "Yes."

"But we always assumed that Joey would always…" Rachel stopped for a moment and took pause to think about what she was going to say next. "Joey is just better with women."

Monica shook her head once more and rolled her eyes back in embarrassment. "Rach!"

"No, no. It's fine." Kathy put her mug down on the table and leaned forward. "Joey was great, and he was fun, but we didn't have that extra thing. You know what I mean? That spark."

"But, it's Joey."

Kathy sat back again and gestured towards Rachel. "Hey, you can date him if you want."

Monica chuckled and shifted even closer to the end of the couch. "You and Chandler have that spark?"

"I think so. I feel it. I think he does too."

"I love that feeling. You're nervous and excited and happy all at the same time."

Kathy smiled and looked down. "Me too. Although, I think I'm just excited and happy. He makes me feel so comfortable. Like, there isn't anything I can't tell him."

"Chandler?" Rachel looked over at Monica. "The guy who used to be able to come up with any reason not to go out with someone? He once dumped a girl because she had really skinny fingers."

Monica gestured towards Kathy. "Well Rach, obviously, with Kathy, he doesn't think like that anymore. Maybe he's maturing."

Rachel twisted her face up and shot Monica a skeptical look. "Chandler?"

Kathy laughed again and stood up. "As fun as this has been, I do have to get going. I'm auditioning for a play this afternoon."

Rachel, still puzzled, gestured with her hand towards Kathy. "What I don't get is, you picked Chandler, over Joey."

Monica nudged Rachel again with her elbow and glowered at her. "Rach!"

Kathy sat back down and twisted her lips into a smile. "Are you asking me about the sex?"

"Oh no. Noooo. No." Rachel mocked a laugh and slapped her knee, she then turned back to Kathy and let her smile fade. "Yes. Yes. It's about the sex. Joey has always seemed like he's…" Rachel lifted her hands in front of her and squeezed them tightly into little fists as she flexed her arms. "You know? And Chandler, well, he was always like…" She relaxed her arms and started to let them flail about weakly.

Kathy shook her head. "Well, maybe that's the problem with Joey."

"What?"

"With Joe, everything was a little harder."

Rachel smiled lasciviously. "Oh, I'll bet."

Kathy shook her head and rolled her eyes. "No. Not like that. Look, Joey is a sweet guy, and he is very attractive, but he knows it, and, he gets lazy because of that. He doesn't pay attention, and you are kind of left there picking up the slack in the relationship. And it always feels like he is looking over your shoulder for the next best thing."

Monica nodded. "What about Chandler."

"Chandler, he…he doesn't know how great he is. So, while Joey is impressed with himself, Chandler is busy trying to impress you. He remembers something you said in passing, and then, he acts on it. Like the book he got me for my birthday."

Monica smiled and looked down. "Like we said, he's sweet."

"It's more than that. With Joey, he makes you feel like, him just being there is enough. So he never had to try and change things up. Everything he did with me when we were dating, it felt like he had done it a thousand times before. Like a part he rehearsed. Chandler, it's as if he can't believe this is happening to him, and he just wants to celebrate being together all the time. It's intoxicating to get that kind of positive attention."

Monica sat back again. "Wow. That sounds really great."

Rachel nodded, and then looked back over at Kathy. "Yeah, but the sex…"

"Okay, fine. You win." Kathy gestured with her hands that she had finally surrendered to Rachel and her attempts to press her for more salacious details. "You win. In the beginning, Joey was really amazing in bed, but over time, that sort of fell off. Like, drinking an espresso. You get this jolt of energy, but it fades."

Rachel and Monica glanced at each other. Monica shook her head at Rachel, but she dismissed her with her eyes and turned back to Kathy. "And Chandler?"

"It was a little awkward at first, I think he was too much in his head." Kathy looked at Monica. "But you." She raised her hands up and clasped them together as she swung them in Monica's direction. "You turned him into a living legend."

"Really?"

"It's something new every night. I think he is going to go one way, and he changes it up. I think he is going to zig and he zags. He hits all my spots. Even spots I didn't know needed to be hit. This thing he did with my toes the other night…"

Rachel raised her hands high in the air in triumph. "Ooo! That was me!" She quickly dropped her hands back down and shrunk into her shoulders as she slumped into the couch. Her face turned red with embarrassment.

Kathy laughed one more time and stood up. "Okay ladies. Now I really have to go."

Monica and Rachel smiled and nodded as Kathy pulled her coat on. They shared a quick "Goodbye" and Kathy walked quickly out the door and onto the street.

Monica and Rachel both looked at each other and smirked.

Rachel shook her head as she lifted up her mug. "Wow. Can you believe it?"

Monica nodded. "I know. I'm so jealous."

"What? Of Kathy?"

"Yeah, a little. I wish I was in that place, the beginning. Getting my socks knocked off in and out of bed. Instead, I'm sitting here with you!"

"Hey!"

"You know what I mean."

Rachel nodded. "Well, let's hope we find guys that make us feel like Chandler makes Kathy feel. Did you ever think you'd live to see that? Crazy!"

Monica smiled and looked out towards the window as she watched a few passersby walk past the coffee shop. "You know, maybe it isn't that crazy."


	33. The Bitterest Pill I Ever Had to Swallow

**The Bitterest Pill (I Ever Had to Swallow)**

"_Yemen."_

Chandler looked around the plane and then settled back into his seat as he grumbled under his breath. He gnashed his teeth and pulled his bag close to him as if it would be able to shield him from the consequences of his actions and somehow save him from his impending doom. The old woman sitting next to Chandler turned to look at him and he offered her a flat smile that betrayed how miserable he was. He was certain that this was going to be one of the worst days of his life. Not only was he already out twenty-one-hundred dollars, but he was going to be stuck for more than fourteen hours on a plane to Yemen.

"_Yemen."_

He was still repeating the name of his absurd destination to himself in disbelief. While doing so did nothing to quell his anger, he hoped it would at least keep his mind from racing and focusing on the questions that he did not want to answer. Yet, despite his best efforts, he could not keep them at bay, and his critical self-analysis that usually sent him on a spiral of doubt had begun to tear at his self-esteem once again, like an emotional flagellant.

He sat there and stewed as those unanswerable questions began to swirl around in his brain. How could he have taken things this far? Why can he never learn that he is the only one who seems to get entangled in his web of lies? When will he find the courage to say what he is really feeling and stop being afraid of uncomfortable conversations? How is he going to get back home? What is he going to do about work? Do they serve food on the plane?

He looked out the window, and squinted his eyes, as if that would help him see inside the terminal. He hoped that he might be able to see if Janice was still standing there, waiting for his flight to take off or if she had finally left, satisfied that she had stood vigil long enough. He thought that if she were gone, he could come up with some ruse to get removed from the plane. Another lie that he could tell which would no doubt end in his arrest as he caused a panic and forced everyone to exit the plane. For Chandler, that outlandish outcome seemed very on brand.

He wondered about how he could have even found himself here in the first place. He could have easily rejected Janice the moment she walked back into his life. He could have told her he was not interested in starting up a relationship with her again or tell her he was not ready to start dating anyone. Perhaps he could have come up with a smaller, less expensive lie and pretended he already had a girlfriend. He could have pulled that off. He could have even just said that he was still with Kathy. Anything would be better than sitting here on the tarmac ready to embark on what will probably be the longest three days of his life.

He slumped down in his seat and turned away from the window. Did he do this for Janice? For himself? For both of them? Suddenly, he was not sure anymore who he was lying for and why. Who was he protecting? Why did he have to think about Kathy now? When he has all this time to himself to wallow in the memory of another woman rejecting him, like so many had before.

Chandler was pulled from his thoughts as he heard the captain announce a delay for the flight. He could not make out all the words, but he heard something that sounded like ground crew and something else about water. He looked around and tried to get the attention of one of the attendants for more information, but he assumed he must have turned invisible since he boarded because none of them looked his way despite his demonstrative waving.

"_Yemen!"_

He looked back out the window and shook his head. The last thing he wanted was more time to himself, alone with his thoughts. The kind of thoughts he always tried to cover up with a well-timed, self-deprecating joke or a sardonic comment. Normally, when he started to dwell on his own inadequacies, he could distract himself by playing some mindless game with Joey or hanging out with Monica. Unfortunately, neither one of them was here. It was just him, the old woman who only spoke Arabic, the pilot who needed to learn how to enunciate, and the neglectful flight attendants who apparently did not know that he existed.

Chandler slipped his coat off and rolled it up into a makeshift pillow. He pressed it up against the window and leaned his head on it as he closed his eyes and hoped sleep would take the events of today and thoughts of Kathy from his mind. As he felt himself start to drift, he asked himself a question that he had no intention of answering.

"_Did I ever tell Kathy that I loved her?"_

* * *

Chandler felt a sharp elbow hit him in the ribs. Although the rough nudging he was receiving did not cause him any real pain, it made him wince anyway as he tightly closed his eyes.

"Hey. Italian guy's gay roommate, move over. You're crowding me and disturbing my needlepoint."

Chandler popped up the moment he recognized the familiar, gruff voice that was accosting him. A voice he had not heard in over two years. His snapped his eyelids open like roller-blinds and turned quickly to see Mr. Heckles sitting next to him. His mouth dropped in shock and his mind raced with a million questions, paramount among them, how could a dead man be sitting on the plane next to him.

Despite everything he wanted to say, all Chandler could get out was a low and almost inaudible, "You don't do needlepoint."

"I could do needlepoint if I wanted to."

Chandler shook his head. "What, how, I don't...what's going on?"

Heckles turned to look at Chandler and twisted his lips into a scowl. "Huh? Speak up? For someone who made a lot of noise all the time, you sure do talk low."

"Yeah, but, how are you here?"

"This is my flight. I'm supposed to be on this plane. You should be asking yourself why you're here disturbing me."

Chandler looked around the plane in a panic and then turned his eyes towards the window. He watched as the clouds rolled by. He turned back to Heckles and his eyes opened wide in horror.

"Your flight? Oh no, did I…uh…am I…is this heaven?"

"What?"

Chandler looked around at the other passengers and then lowered his voice as he spoke into Heckles shoulder. "You know…are we dead?"

"You're not dead. This plane isn't going to heaven. It's going to Hermit Junction."

Chandler sat up straight and looked around again. Suddenly, he noticed all of the passengers that were with him on the flight to Yemen were switched out for rows and rows of lonely looking men. Each one of them looking forward, with sunken eyes and joyless faces.

"This doesn't make any sense." Chandler looked around again and then slumped in his seat. "I thought I stopped this from happening. I know what I want."

"What? You think no one on this flight knows what they want? They know what they want, they're just too scared to get it."

Chandler looked over at Heckles and shook his head. "What?"

"That's not you and me though. We aren't like these losers. We see what we want, we take it. We're a couple of go-getters."

Chandler looked Heckles up and down. He looked exactly the same. He was wearing a threadbare robe that was missing the sash. "You don't look much like a go-getter."

"I could be a go-getter if I wanted to."

Chandler sighed and rolled his eyes. "I don't understand. I saw the pictures you had in your apartment with all the women you rejected, which for the record, I have a lot of questions about. Like, how in the world did you go out with that many women?" Chandler shook his head. "Never mind that. What I'm trying to say is that I stopped being like you. I stopped worrying about superficial things. I even went out with Janice again." Chandler turned back towards the window and slumped his head against the side of the plane.

"You know what your problem is? It isn't that you don't know what you want. It's that you can't deal with rejection. Probably because of your parents."

"What? How do you know my parents?" Chandler turned back to face Heckles, but he was gone. In his place stood a professorial looking man, with glasses, long hair, and a well-manicured stubble-beard. "Hey…I know you…you were that psychiatrist that went out with Phoebe! Roger!"

Roger shook his head and offered Chandler a condescending smirk. "It's funny that you're so afraid of rejection. You should be used to it. You get rejected all the time. What's there to be afraid of?"

"What?"

"Think about it. Your parents rejected each other. They rejected you. Girls rejected you. You the king of rejection."

"Hey, that's not true." Chandler folded his arms defiantly and then looked around the plane. All the lonely men were gone, and now they were replaced by women, but every woman looked slightly familiar to him.

"Of course it's true. When you were a child, your mom and dad never really listened to you when you tried to tell them how you felt. You had to deal with all of those negative feelings on your own and figure out your own, and quite frankly damaging, form of therapy. That's why you hide all your trauma underneath jokes, and you avoid confrontation. You have all these scars from their initial rejection, so, every time someone rejects you, you go back to being that little kid who got hurt by mommy and daddy."

Chandler turned to jab an angry, defiant finger in Roger's face, but paused when he saw Jill Goodacre sitting in a row next to them. He became slack-jawed and blinked his eyes several times.

"Why is Jill Goodacre here?"

"All the women in your life that you have ever had a crush on, even in passing, are here on this plane." Roger looked up over the seat in front of him. "There's Missy Goldberg from college." He turned back and smugly smirked at Chandler. "You sure do like a lot of women that you never talk to."

"And you sure are just as annoying as I remember."

Roger chuckled under his breath, took off his glasses, and wiped the lenses with a cloth he pulled out of his pocket. "Am I annoying or are you just upset that you have to finally face all your shortcomings with women?"

"No. You're just annoying." Chandler folded his arms again and turned his attention to the sky outside the window.

"I'm only telling you what you already know. Your unresolved issues about your parents has led to every confrontation you avoided in your adult life. Every lie you told, and every person you held at arms length that you thought you were protecting yourself from, was really just a way to keep yourself from revisiting all the trauma that you never dealt with from your childhood."

"Nuh-uh."

"Think about it. Do you even remember telling Kathy you loved her?"

Chandler chewed on his lip and then spoke through gritted teeth. "No."

"And why not?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do. Because you think that the people that you say 'I love you' to end up hurting you and then they leave you."

"Well, Kathy did all those things anyway, so what does it matter if I told her or not." Chandler turned to confront Roger, but he was gone. In his seat now was a beautiful, familiar woman. She had dark curly locks that bounced around her shoulders and exotic, olive skin. He knew her immediately.

"Aurora?"

"Hello Chand-lrr."

"Oh my god. Please let me stay right here because this dream is finally getting good. Are you going to get naked?"

Aurora laughed and shook her head. "No. I'm not."

"But we had so much fun when we were naked."

Aurora gently put her hand on his arm and smiled sweetly at him. "Chand-lrr, you'll just reject me again."

"What? No I won't. That was a different Chandler. That was a much stupider Chandler. I don't reject beautiful women anymore."

"Chand-lrr. We could go now and make love in the back of the plane, but it will leave you hollow again."

"I'm willing to take that chance. I like hollow. I like all the hollows. Sleepy Hollow, Hollow-ween. I'm sure I'll think of others."

Aurora smiled and ran her fingers along his chest as she leaned over to get herself closer to him. "Oh, but you had that chance, and you refused. Do you know why?"

"Because I am a stupid, stupid man."

Aurora laughed and pulled back away from Chandler. She settled into her seat and began to unfasten her seatbelt. "No. It is because you want more than just mindless sex and a temporary reprieve from everything that weighs down on you."

Chandler started to wildly gesticulate with his hands as he shook his head quickly from side-to-side. "No, no, no. I love temporary reprieves. I live for mindless sex."

"No you don't." She leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek. "You want to find love Chandl-rr." She placed her hand over his heart. "You want someone who will take this part of you right here and cherish it in a way you have never experienced before. You don't want to be alone and bitter."

Chandler turned his head away as he placed his hand over hers and sighed. "I don't want to be a hermit."

"Yes. But to do that, you have to grow up. You have to be able to recognize her when you find her, and you won't be able to do that if you keep playing your silly games. You have to be brave enough to tell her how you feel, even if you don't know how she will react. You have to stop sabotaging yourself by being you." Aurora slid her hand away from his chest and onto his shoulder as she began to push him gently away from her. "Now wake up."

* * *

Chandler eyes popped open as he felt someone gently nudging him on his shoulder. He picked up his head and wiped at the corner of his mouth, blinking several times to try and bring the world into focus. "Heckles." Was all he could get out before he realized that the hand on his shoulder belonged to a flight attendant.

"Sir? Are you okay?"

Chandler yawned and attempted to stand up. "Yeah, sorry, I guess I was out like a light. Did I sleep all the way to Yemen?"

"Oh, I'm sorry sir. Unfortunately, we were delayed for about four hours due a mechanical issue, and we are required to deplane at this time."

Chandler swung around and smiled gleefully. "We're still in New York?"

"Sorry to say, yes. When you get inside they'll give you instructions on how to reschedule your flight."

Chandler pumped his fist triumphantly and began to dance awkwardly. "I love ya Big Apple!"

* * *

Monica jumped when she heard the phone ring at the same time that she touched a wire through one of the holes that she had made in the wall. She pulled her hands back and held them close to her chest and waited as she listened, but once the phone rang again, she sighed and walked over to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mon? Uh, I need some help."

"Chandler? Where are you? It's so loud."

"JFK. Look, I have no cash on me and my credit card is maxed out from the plane ticket to Yemen. The airline would only give me a credit. I tried to talk a cab driver into taking me home, but they aren't very receptive when you tell them you have no money."

"Yemen? What…" Monica shook her head. "You know what? I don't want to know. What do you need?"

"I have an emergency credit card in my room. Can you get it and call up a car service to pick me up?"

"Sure. If you wait by the phone, I'll call you back when I'm done."

"Oh okay. You don't have to call me back. I could just wait outside."

Monica shook her head. "No. You need to know the name of the driver and the number of the car. Ooo. I'll also get the make and model of the car that's coming to pick you up. You can never have too much information."

"Great. Maybe you can find out what the driver's favorite movie is too and we can all go out to the video store later and rent it!"

"Do you want me to help you or do you want me to hang up so you can keep making your little jokes."

"I want you to help me."

"Okay, I'll call you right back." Monica moved the phone from her ear, but then quickly picked it back up again. "Hey! What the hell does the light switch by the door do?"


	34. Like Real People Do

**Like Real People Do**

It felt really good.

It felt right.

It fit.

Monica was not sure why it felt so amazing to be here in his arms. She wondered if it was simply a reaction to this protective cloak of true friendship that he wrapped her in, as he attempted to bring her back to life. It filled her with complete and utter content. This embrace that could only come from the kind of friendship that had been so elusive over the last few years of her life. The promise that someone was there with her in total solidarity, no matter what was to come, communicated to her through one of the best hugs she had ever received.

Perhaps it was finally finding a friend to hold her down to the earth while she wrestled with her own insecurities that allowed her to let loose with an authentic and serene smile as she nuzzled against him. As confident as she could be at times, there was still this constant battle she waged with herself through the years that always threatened to send her spiraling out into the atmosphere. Those moments were fleeting, but they were powerful, and they could lay her so low if left unchecked with no one able or willing to anchor her to the ground.

She always needed someone to hold her steady and in place in those moments when she was at the height of self-critical despair. She needed someone to show her that she was not some caricature of a person that could only be defined by her most abrasive attributes. She needed to know that she was not some phantom incapable of leaving a lasting impression on everyone she crossed paths with. Someone who would reassure her that she was seen and valued. Most of all, she needed someone she trusted to simply let her know that it was going to be all right. That she was not crazy or difficult or unappreciated. That she was not alone.

To her surprise, the person she needed came to her in the unlikeliest of forms. The boy who once called her fat and could not see who she was underneath all that extra weight was now a man who seemed to be the only person in her life who saw her for everything that she was. He accepted all of her, even the version of herself when she was at her worst, the one that so many others had rejected. Without being asked, or prompted, or told; he knew exactly what she needed. He made her feel like it was okay to be that person. He made her feel like it was okay to be herself.

He was unlike all the other people in her life, the ones who had sabotaged her with passive-aggressive criticisms and kept her self-doubt fat and well fed. People like her parents and her brother, who never seemed to be there for her when she required them the most. They were always much too busy with their own lives to recognize when she needed their help. Even the friends that she had assumed would be with her through any and all adversity were gone. Friends like Rachel who disappeared the moment they graduated high school, and Phoebe, who secretly moved out of the apartment in the dead of night like a thief. They were all incapable of offering her the salve that her spirit so desperately craved.

To finally have a friend that she could turn to for comfort in a way that she had never had before was indescribable. There were no words that could express how she felt right now as they held each other. Her smile and the peaceful expression on her face would have to be good enough.

The hug itself was perfect. He was just the right height for her. She could rest her head under his jawline and against his chest without fumbling to find a comfortable spot. When they embraced like this, the lower part of his cheek pressed gently against her forehead, giving her the soothing sensation of skin-on-skin. Her arms fit underneath his so precisely that she could run her hands along his back in the way she likes without impediment. His own arms felt strong yet gentle around her body, applying the optimum amount of pressure, like some protective bubble of human contact. His body felt warm, and he almost hummed when he breathed, which helped lull her into a deep sense of security. It was as if he were a big cat, purring and causing a series of vibrations inside her body that eased her own agitated breathing and calmed the rough waters of her troubled mind.

He was also not like other men, who would no doubt see this moment of intimacy as an open invitation to attempt to turn it into something sexual. She did not have to worry about wandering hands or his body pressing up against hers in an uncomfortable and suggestive way. He was quiet and still, and she could tell by the lack of tension in his body that he was not dwelling on the fact that she was naked underneath her towel. She knew his only intention was to pacify her with his simple platonic gesture. It brought her great delight to know that this person existed in the world for her. That she could rely on him to supply that physical closeness she sometimes requires without it becoming awkward. That she could tug on his collar, or run his tie between her fingers, or play with the fabric of his sleeve in order to sate some sensory input that she would unconsciously seek from time-to-time without it being misconstrued.

It was as if he was here on this earth for her, willing to be whatever she needed him to be. Funny, kind, sweet, supportive and reassuring yet also disarmingly sarcastic and blunt enough with the truth to keep her grounded. He was this imperfect man, who was her perfect friend. She knew that no matter who else came into their lives, and even if they drifted apart from time to time, they would always have this. They would always be each other's best friend.

* * *

Monica stepped into the bar and immediately noticed Chandler sitting at a table in the corner. He was slumped over, supporting his head with his hand as Joey talked to two women who were standing over him. He looked so miserable that she could not help but laugh. When he saw her, his eyes lit up and he quickly excused himself to meet her by the pool table.

"Thanks god you're here."

Monica looked past him and smirked. "What's the matter? Looks like you have a good thing going over there."

Chandler gestured incredulously with his arms and rolled his eyes. "I'm not even the funny one! I can't get a word in edgewise. I might as well be invisible. No one can see me as long as Joey is around."

"I saw you."

"Thanks." Chandler offered her a sarcastic smile which caused Monica to giggle as she playfully bumped her shoulder into his chest. He then adopted a more sympathetic expression as he looked back at his new roommate. "Oh, hey; I'm sorry. You kind of liked him though, right? This probably doesn't help make you feel any better."

"What?" Monica waved her hand dismissively in Joey's direction. "No. I am so over that. You don't want to know. Anyway, somebody already helped make me feel better."

Chandler looked around the bar as he wrinkled his brow. "You already meet someone?"

Monica shook her head and could only smirk at how obtuse he was. "Something like that."

Chandler looked back again and noticed that Joey and the two women he was seducing began to gather their things as they stepped away from the table. "Oh great, he's giving me the thumbs up."

"So?"

Chandler turned back to look at Monica and shook his head. "It means that they're going back to our apartment to have sex."

Monica pointed at Joey and looked up at Chandler with skeptical eyes. "The three of them?"

"Yeah. He said, and I quote, 'what are the rules about where I can have sex in the apartment, because I want to try out the kitchen counter'. I'm going to be up all night."

"Why don't you just sleep at my place. Phoebe's gone; I have a spare bedroom now."

"You don't have to do that."

Monica smiled as she grabbed his hand and swung it side-to-side as her eyes gleamed with excitement. "It'll be fun! I have a pair of Ross's pajamas you can borrow. We could make fudge and gossip all night! It'll be like a sleepover!"

Chandler pulled away and looked down at her apprehensively. "You know I'm not a thirteen-year-old girl, right?"

"Oh, we can put on some dumb action movie in the background so that it'll be a boy sleepover."

Chandler smiled and bounced on his feet. "Okay! Maybe we could rent Die Hard from the twenty-four-hour video store."

"Again?"

"If you want me to make fudge then I am going to need John McClane to balance everything out."

"Fine." Monica shook her head and then looked around. "Do you want to get a beer here or pick some up and go home?"

"We can go. I think my ego has been bruised enough. There's only so much rejection one-man can take before it stops being charming and it becomes sad."

Monica chuckled and grabbed his hand one more time as she led him towards the exit.

"Hey, uh, just maybe don't say anything about the fudge-making in front of Joey. I don't want him to get the wrong impression of me."

"I'm pretty sure living with you will do that anyway." Chandler frowned and shook his head. Monica flashed him a playful smile and gave him a quick hug. "Don't worry. I won't say anything."

She smiled once more as she turned around and led him out of the bar. It did not occur to her what it must have looked like to everyone else there who might have seen them leave. Two young, attractive people standing close together as they spoke, hugging and holding hands as they left together.

What they looked like was the furthest thing from her mind. The only thing that mattered to her was how it felt to be with her best friend.

It felt really good.

It felt right.

It fit.


	35. Milk Carton Kid

**Milk Carton Kid**

"Hello?"

Chandler slowly opened the door to his mother's apartment and looked around to see if anyone was home. He stepped inside and tilted his head as if somehow that would improve his ability to hear someone if they were responding to him from another room.

"Mom?"

Standing with one foot in the hallway and one in the foyer, Chandler felt like an intruder. He decided to only wait for a moment before he walked into the spacious Manhattan apartment that his mother has owned since his parent's divorce. He slipped off his jacket and tossed it over the back end of the couch as he moved around his old home. It felt like a lifetime ago when he was last inside this epicenter of avarice that was a quintessential reflection of Nora Bing.

He looked around, trying to remember what it felt like to live here. It was hard to conjure up those memories; as if he locked them away in a vault deep within his mind and threw away the key. A childhood that was anything but typical, and a home that was anything but warm and inviting.

He frowned as he scanned his mother's sparsely, yet fashionably decorated home. The walls in her living room were white; matching the shag carpet and leather furniture. White couch, white chairs, black iron and glass end tables. It was a sterile, cold, alien environment. Just like it was when he was young. It hardly ever looked like the home of a single mother. It never felt like a home that a child was welcome in. It looked like something from a magazine; it was what the home of a celebrity writer was supposed to look like. Homes like that had no space for a young, confused boy who was still trying to make sense of his life.

He moved further into the apartment and entered the kitchen. More black and white. Everything was spotless, immaculate, untouched. Chandler had no doubt that this room was seldom used after he moved out. Although, if he were being honest, it saw very little use when he lived here as well. More often than not, he ordered food deliveries from the local restaurants where his mother had a charge account available. There were more nights than he cared to remember when he dined alone while she was either out of town, or out on the town. He would consume meals from take-out boxes as he watched television in his room. The kitchen now seemed even more abandoned then when he was living here. It looked to be put away like a relic once he was shipped off to his all-boy boarding school.

Relic. That seemed to be a fitting word to describe this entire apartment. A place that felt more like a museum than a home to him. Filled with beautiful things that you were not allowed to touch and the memories of a life that seemed like ancient history. A life that belonged to someone else that he merely read about in a book. A life of a boy who roamed around these halls in search of something to help him pass the time. Where he watched old movies and comedy specials that he would stumble on late at night flipping through the TV channels. He played records on the stereo of soundtracks to musicals that his father left behind after he scampered off to Las Vegas. He focused on his schoolwork or played some game he made up using the furniture as a playground. He did anything he could to distract himself from dwelling on how lonely he really was.

"Chandler?"

He spun around as he saw his mother, wrapped tightly in a robe, step into the hallway from the bathroom. She smiled as she walked over to him and kissed his cheek as a greeting.

"Am I early?"

Nora Bing looked at her son with a confused expression on her face. "For what dear?"

"You wanted to go to dinner tonight."

Nora lifted her hand to her face and let out a regretful sigh. "Oh my, I completely forgot."

"That seems on brand. So, then, what are you getting ready for? A Party? A Date? A business meeting?"

"Fingers crossed that it might be all three." She chuckled at her joke, but noticed the dour look beginning to form on her son's face. "Oh, I'm so sorry sweetheart. I must have missed this on my calendar."

"Well, I was probably only penciled in." Chandler winced a bit at his tone. He didn't like feeling like this again. Bitter. Short-tempered. Acerbic. It seemed lately; he only reserved this version of himself for his parents. Ever since he moved into his new apartment, he'd been less cutting and more charming with his wit. He preferred himself that way.

"Don't be fresh. Look, I have a few minutes before I need to get ready. We can catch up before that. How was your friend's wedding last month? What's his name? Rusty?"

"Ross."

"Right. The tall Jewish boy."

"That's what we call him."

Nora shook her head and fluttered her eyelids in an attempt to shake off her son's joke. "Was it fun? Did you have a date? Did you get to go home with a girl?"

"You have to love a mother who wants to know if her son scored. No. I spent most of the time hanging out with Ross's sister."

Chandler's mood lifted for the first time since he entered his mother's apartment. He looked down and smiled as he thought of dancing and laughing with Monica throughout Ross and Carol's reception.

Nora picked up on his changed demeanor and smiled slyly. "Oh, is this someone special?"

Chandler flustered a bit and then shook his head quickly. "What? No, no. Noooo. I mean, sure, she's special, but she is just a friend. She's Ross's little sister and she lives across the hall from me. I don't even think about her like that."

"Oh. Well, at least you're making friends with women. That's a step in the right direction." Chandler rolled his eyes as his mother turned around to walk away. "I have to go get dressed, but if you want, when I am done you can tell me all about your new friend. If you're hungry, I think there's a menu from the Italian place down the street in the drawer near the stove. Just charge it to my account. I'm sure there's something to drink in the refrigerator. Make yourself at home."

Chandler looked around the apartment one more time as his mother closed her bedroom door behind her. He glanced at the bare white walls in the kitchen and shook his head. This was not his home anymore. There's a chance, it never was.

* * *

"Hello?"

Monica walked into her parent's home and looked around quickly to see if anyone was there to greet her. She was surprised by the silence in the house that served as her only answer. Her smile turned into a frown as she glanced down at her watch. She already knew she on time, but she liked to check her watch anyway; it felt very empowering when she had tangible evidence of her promptness. She also relished the fact that she could use that information later to point out how tardy everyone else was compared to her.

She paced from the front door to the kitchen, looking for a sign that someone was home. It was oddly quiet for a Saturday morning. Her mother and father were supposed to be here waiting for her arrival. They were the ones who called her to visit. They had convinced her to switch out her early shift at Iridium today for a later one this evening so she could be here early in the morning for what apparently was an important task. They had compelled her to make the trip out to Long Island and insisted that her presence was required. Monica hated to give up a rare Saturday night off from the restaurant but hearing how vital she must be to her parents today was enough of an incentive to persuade her to go through with the swap.

She looked around the kitchen and smirked as she thought about all the time she spent in here, cooking and practicing her culinary skills. Honing her craft. When she was younger, she could lose herself for days on end trying to perfect new dishes and combining recipes in an attempt to create new flavors. It seemed so much bigger in her mind when she replayed those memories than it was in reality.

Her parents never seemed to think much of her plans to go to culinary school. They considered her cooking to be a hobby, something she would abandon when the time came to pick a sensible career. They assumed it was just a phase. Some leftover remnant from her days of being an overweight, overeater who was obsessed with food. It always seemed that her dreams and ambitions were overlooked by her mother and father. That there were pieces of her that were invisible.

She cast her eyes down and ran them along the surface of the small table in the kitchen. She remembered sitting there with her mother when she shared her plans to enroll in culinary school and train as a chef. Monica had hoped her mother would be excited that her daughter had found something she was passionate about. Her mother's initial reaction was to tell Monica how hard it would be to find a husband if she came home every night stinking like a greasy kitchen. As usual, Judy Geller only had criticism to offer instead of telling her daughter how proud she was. Her father was not much better, focusing his skepticism on how much money she would make and how hard it would be for her to etch out a living and save money for her future. He did put some cash in her hand, and he told her to call her grandmother about staying with her at her apartment in the city. Which turned out to be life-changing.

Before she knew it, she was living in Manhattan. It seemed like it all just started yesterday, but it's been almost two years since she moved out. She was a totally different person when she embarked on her journey into adulthood. She was so timid and afraid of the challenges that lay ahead. She was still shy and insecure about who she was, especially so soon after the weight loss. Yet, this morning, walking into this house, she feels like a woman transformed by her time on her own. She was now much more confident in her abilities. Despite her parent's misgivings, she was proud of the life she chose to live, and happy to have a friend in her life that she could confide in who did not make her feel bad or second guess herself.

She pulled out a chair and sat down. She let her eyes travel the length of the stove. It was strange for her to think about how intimidating that appliance was when she first started cooking. How worried she was that she might burn the house down. She shook her head slowly; every memory of cooking in this kitchen was met with some doubt her mother had sowed into her. She recalled how her mother would lose patience with Monica during her first few attempts to make dinner. Judy Geller would gently push her aside so she could finish the meal. Always focusing on what Monica might have screwed up, which only compounded her low self-esteem. Her mother's actions in those days only served as constant reminder that this was not Monica's kitchen. It would never be her kitchen. It would always belong to her mother.

Even now, well on her way to one day becoming a respected chef, she was keenly aware that the kitchen at Iridium did not belong to her either. She was now just another faceless white coat in a long line of cooks. She still dealt with criticisms, demands, and doubts from her superiors, but she has confidence that one day she will become a head chef, and have a commercial kitchen of her own. That all her hard work will pay off, and maybe her parents will finally be proud.

At least now she has a space that is all her own; the kitchen back at her apartment. It may be small, but she can work uninterrupted. Where no one is pushing her to the side or telling her something doesn't taste right or that she put too much tarragon in her Bearnaise sauce. She was in charge at apartment 20. Not her mother, not her instructors, not her boss; just her. Where everything could be set up exactly as she wanted. Where it was clean and organized.

She even had the perfect guinea pig in Chandler. She could walk across the hall with a plate of food and, except for the occasional joke that would make her eyes roll, he would gladly partake in her cuisine. He always seemed so grateful, even if he was woefully uneducated about fine food. She looked down and smiled as she thought of him. His friendship and humor seemed to make everything just a little bit easier, even though he could be infuriating at times.

"Monica?"

Monica was shaken from her thoughts when she heard her mother's voice break through the silence of the house. She turned quickly to face her. Judy Geller looked confused and disheveled in an uncharacteristic way.

"Mom?"

Her mother ran her fingers through her hair to quickly straighten it out. "What are you doing here darling?"

"Uh, you told me to come."

Judy Geller brought her fingers to her lips and then nodded. "Oh my, I completely forgot. Yes. We have a box of some of your stuff for you to go through that we just packed up from your room."

Monica's eyes widened as her mother's words instantly sent a wave of exacerbation through her body. "That was the big emergency?"

"Well, we figured you wanted to make sure you didn't need anything before your father put it in the garage or threw it out."

Monica rolled her eyes. "Fine." Monica stood up and then stopped herself. "Wait, I don't understand. Why are you packing my stuff up?"

"Well, we need room for the elliptical machine."

"The what?"

"And the weight machine your father had delivered. Your stuff just takes up too much space now."

"You turned my room into a gym?"

"Well, it didn't make sense to keep it made up as your bedroom. You don't live here anymore."

"Ross doesn't live here anymore either. He moved out before me, why didn't you turn his room into a gym?"

"Well, he has so many awards and trophies. It would be a shame to pack those away."

"I have awards."

"Monica, please. Winning a pie eating contest is not the same as winning the science fair."

Monica shook her head and huffed.

"Now dear, don't be like that. It isn't like you are planning on coming back, right?"

"Well, I'd like to know it's still an option."

"If you have to spend the night, you can always sleep in the den."

"That's where the dog used to sleep!"

Jack Geller walked into the kitchen stuffing his shirt into his pants. "Judy, I can't seem to get this belt back on…oh, hello Monica."

Monica shuddered and tried not to dwell too much on the image of what her parents must have been doing when she first got here.

"Dad! You turned my room into a gym?"

"What? Oh, dear, you can always sleep in the den."

"I don't want to sleep in the den. I want to sleep in my bed."

"Well, then you'll have to talk to the Gundersons about that. We let them have it for their daughter's room."

"I can't believe this."

"Now, Monica, it isn't like this is your home anymore."

Monica folded her arms and seethed. She knew when she was younger that her parents hardly noticed her, but she did not think they would actively try to wipe the memory of her ever having lived in this house away once she left. With nothing here to prove she existed, it would be as if this were never her home.

* * *

Monica stopped opening her door when she heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs behind her. She turned and saw Chandler who was making his way to their floor and flashed him a friendly smile.

"Hey, you're home late. Hot date?"

"Well, I was supposed to have dinner with my mother, but she stood me up. What are you doing home so late? I thought you were off tonight."

"I was, but my parents called me out to collect some of my old stuff since they converted my bedroom into a gym." Monica gestured towards the box on the floor next to her.

Chandler looked down and chuckled. "Hey, is that a kaboodle?" Monica wrinkled her brow in confusion as she looked at him. "Uh, I mean, I don't know what a kaboodle is. That's not a word I've ever used before."

Monica propped her door open and Chandler snatched the box up from the floor to carry it in for her.

"Just leave it on the table. Thanks,"

Chandler stepped inside and placed the box down. He looked over at Monica, who seemed to have a frown forming on her lips.

"What's that smell?"

"Huh?" Monica sniffed at her coat. "Oh, that's probably just twelve hours in the kitchen you're smelling."

"I like it. What were you making?"

"Uh, I was doing sauces."

He nodded and looked over at the overstuffed box of memories that she lugged all the way from Long Island, to her job, and back here.

"Hey, uh, I have tickets to the Jets game tomorrow. Do you want to go?"

Monica tilted her head inquisitively. "How'd you get tickets?"

"My job. They have all sorts of seats to events all over town. I mean, you wouldn't believe how good the seats were to Annie. But, of course, Linda in accounting had to get those so she could take her stupid kid."

Monica looked at Chandler and wrinkled her brow again, even more confused than before. "Uh, I mean, Annie? Blech! I don't even know what that is. I want to see the sport guys hit each other."

Monica couldn't help but smile, despite herself. "You don't have any guy friends from work to take?"

"Well, I was going to see if one of them wanted to go and then I realized, I'm not really interested in making friends with the people at my job." He looked down and chuckled. "Anyway, I'd ask Ross, but he is never around anymore. Come on. It'll be fun. You can yell at the players and no one will think it is weird."

"I do like to yell at people." Monica looked over at the box on the table. "Okay, let's do it. What time is the game?"

"Four."

"Okay, so, you should probably meet me over here ready to leave at twelve."

"Twelve? But the game is just over the bridge."

"Chandler! Do you know how many things could go wrong? There could be traffic, or a problem with the tickets, or maybe the car breaks down. We could get into an accident or the subway could have a delay. And you know we're going to want a beer before we get in our seats, what if the concession lines are long? We don't want to miss the kickoff."

Chandler nodded and smiled at Monica as she spoke and slowly backed out of her apartment, closing the door behind him before she could finish her litany of nightmare scenarios that could make them late.

* * *

"Oh come on O'Brien! You stink!"

Chandler almost fell backwards at Monica's wild arm swinging as she yelled at the men on the field.

"Monica, will you stop yelling at the players?"

She turned to him with a scornful look on her face. "What? But you said I could yell and it wouldn't look weird."

"Yeah, at the other team. O'Brien plays for the Jets."

Monica laughed and then playfully bumped her shoulder into him. "Look, I'm not going to reward underachievers. These guys have to earn my cheers."

Chandler rolled his eyes and looked over at a hotdog vendor who was walking up the stairs towards their row of seats. He held up two fingers and nodded at the stadium worker, who immediately deciphered his non-verbal intent to purchase food.

Monica looked over his shoulder and shook her head. "I don't want a hot dog."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't."

"Look, if you don't get a hot dog, then you're just going to want to split mine and I don't want to share. You already ignored me when I told you to bring a jacket, and now, I don't have a jacket because you're wearing mine."

Monica snuggled herself inside the oversized coat she was wearing. "But it's so warm in here."

The vendor reached their seats and passed down the two hot dogs. "Okay mac, that'll be six bucks."

"Can I have some mustard too?"

Monica waved the man off and shook her head. "No. You don't want mustard."

"Yes I do."

"No, it gives you heartburn."

"No it doesn't"

"Yes, it does." She looked at the vendor. "No mustard."

Chandler shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

Monica returned her focus to the game. "Come on! You bums! I could have run that route!"

"Wow. This game really brings out a lovely color on you."

Monica twisted her lips in a mocking smile and shook her head. She sat back down and rested her head on his shoulder. "They're going to lose. I know it."

"They might pull it out. They're only down three points."

"We'll see." Monica took a bite from her hot dog. "I didn't know you were such a big football fan."

"What? Oh yeah. I love everything about it. The touchdowns, and the, uh, homeruns."

Monica closed her eyes and shook her head. "You don't know anything about football, do you?"

"That depends. Is the ball really made of pigskin?"

"No."

"Then, yes. I don't know anything about football."

"Well, when we get home, I'll teach you all about it. Ooo, we could make hot chocolate."

Chandler shook his head and chuckled. "Sure. Just, keep this between the two of us. I don't want everyone to know I learned about sports from a girl."

"I taught you everything else you know. What's one more thing."

He groaned, but Monica leaned against him again, and his mood lifted as he appreciated the warmth of her body contrasting the cold air in the stadium. Monica smiled as his frame allowed her to take some strain off her back which still ached from the night before in the restaurant. Soon enough, the game would be over and the two of them would go home. An apartment building that in many ways, is their first real home. The two of them finding a happy place, filled with the love of true friendship and laughter.


	36. Tempted

**Tempted**

"Oh my god! That was amazing!"

Kathy rolled on top of Chandler and ran her lips across his chest. She needed some kind of intimate physical connection to sate the urge she had rising up once more from within her before she dismounted him and flopped back down onto the bed beside him. She was completely drained, out of breath and practically panting. She had beads of sweat drying across her chest that made her skin feel tacky to the touch. When she crossed over him, she took in his scent. His flesh was hot and salty and she was certain that she could actually see steam rise from his body.

Chandler raised an eyebrow and tried to suppress a smug smile. "Amazing? Really?" He looked down at her as she rested against him and he felt her nod her head as her hair tickled his chest. He bit his lower lip and finally allowed a triumphant smile to spread across his face. "Say it again."

Kathy looked up at him and laughed. "That. Was. A. May. Zing."

Chandler closed his eyes and let her words wash over him. "I don't think I ever heard that before." He playfully tickled at her side. "I also don't think I ever heard a noise like the one you made at the end there."

"I was possessed."

Chandler laughed again and kissed her on the top of the head. "Amazing Bing. I don't think I've ever been called that before."

"I didn't say that."

"Right, but you might as well get on board with it, because that is what I am going to tell everybody you said anyway."

Kathy shook her head and laughed. "You seemed much more relaxed this time. If I'm being honest, our first time was nice, but it wasn't this."

Chandler hesitated for a moment and sighed. "I know. If I'm also being honest, I may have cheated a bit. I asked for some pointers."

Kathy smacked Chandler's chest and the sound of her slap echoed throughout his bedroom. "Eww! You asked Joey what I liked in bed?"

"What? No! No-no-no. I asked Monica and Rachel."

Kathy lifted her head as her eyebrows kinked up to displayed her confusion. "What?"

"Look, don't be mad, but, uh, well, I could tell you weren't overwhelmed with my first effort, so I went across the hall to, you know, vent about it. I guess the girls wanted to help me out so Monica offered to give me some sex ed."

Chandler held his breath for a moment, waiting for Kathy's response, but all she could do was laugh. "Remind me to thank her."

"Whew!" He mocked wiping his brow and settled back down as his breathing became more relaxed.

Kathy started to sit up and pulled the sheet around her. "I think I need to wash up. Do you mind if I use the shower?"

"Mind? A gorgeous naked woman in my bathroom. Hell no. In fact, maybe I'll join you!" Chandler pulled her back down onto the bed and kissed at her shoulder.

Kathy shoved him off her and giggled at the lascivious look in his eyes. "Okay. Easy there, tiger. I need a little bit of time to recuperate before I even consider trying this again. I hope you have some sport drinks here or something. Anyway, don't you need to, you know, reload your canon?"

Chandler laughed and shook his head. "You obviously do not know anything about my previous sexual history, or lack thereof. My body has been trained by years of rejection not to waste an opportunity like this."

Kathy stood back up and bent over as she tightened the bedsheet around her naked body again. "Okay then stud. Well, let's see how you feel after I get out of the shower. You'll definitely get another opportunity to attempt a repeat performance." She placed one more kiss on his lips, laughed and shook her head at him as he mocked a pout while he watched her leave his room.

Chandler rolled over onto his back and smiled. He made sure that he kept that smile plastered on his face until he heard the door to the bathroom close and the water to the shower turn on. The moment he was certain he had a few minutes to himself; his lips adopted a wrinkled, panicky frown as his face went white. He sat up and put his head in his hands as he began to mutter "no" to himself.

Chandler, while not used to marathon sexual escapades with beautiful women, knew that he should be basking in his triumph. It felt odd not to just lie there in bed and pinch himself to prove that what just transpired was not a dream. That he did indeed satisfy a woman in a way he never had before. He should be elated, high on endorphins, but instead, he was overcome with pangs of guilt. His heart was beating a mile a minute, but it was not due to his exhilaration over what just transpired here in his bed. He was more worried and afraid of where his mind went while he was in the throes of passion.

Everything was going so well up until that point. He was following Monica's sexual guidelines expertly. He was hitting all the spots she had listed. He was mixing them up. He would count off the numbers in his head and watch as Kathy's body reacted to each new stimulation she was experiencing. Every time she looked like she might be growing accustomed to what he was doing, he moved to another number. One to two. Two to four. Four back to one. Three to five to six. He was on fire, and he knew it.

As he heard Kathy reach a crescendo of pleasurable sounds and moans of ecstasy, he started to focus his full attention on seven. He said it over and over in his head. Seven. Seven. Seven. And then it happened. Suddenly and inexplicably, just as Kathy was about to explode with the most intense orgasm he had ever given to a woman, Monica popped in his head.

He couldn't get rid of her no matter how hard he tried. She was just screaming "Seven" over and over, as her face twisted with pleasure. The more he tried to hold her off, the better his performance was, and the more Kathy responded, the more vivid the image of Monica became. He felt as if he were given two very unappealing options. He could stop what he was doing so he could screw his head on right, and perhaps ruin everything that was going on with Kathy, or he could finish her off, with Monica on his mind.

This was not the first time he imagined Monica in a sexual situation. He has, at one time or another, thought about what sex would be like with all the women he is friends with. And he has also fantasized about other women while he was having sex, but this was much more intense than anything he had ever experienced before. Not only was he turning Kathy into a writhing animal underneath him, but he too was at his peak and about to find his release that would leave him in a sweaty heap. It was easily the greatest sexual experience of his lifetime, and he wasn't even able to see the woman he was actually having sex with.

It was just Monica, with her stupid, over the top, and totally arousing demonstration of how to please a woman. It was burned into his brain. It was so hot, that it had him running into the bathroom of her apartment in an attempt to hide so that neither she, nor Rachel could see his body's natural reaction to her incredibly authentic moans and screams. What made it worse, was how he heard both women rush off to their own rooms, to do god knows what. The imagery of what they could have been doing behind closed door only compounded his arousal.

Why couldn't he have imagined both of them. Rachel and Monica. Hell, throw Kathy in there as well. That he could live with. That type of insane, porn movie style fantasy could at least be rationalized away as simply the inner workings of a filthy mind. But no, all he saw was Monica's face, turned up in ecstasy, just as he and Kathy reached their apex.

What worried him even more was that now he wasn't sure if this would happen again. Would he only be able to see Monica's face every time he brought a woman to climax thanks to her stupid numbers and her ridiculous yet somehow undeniably hot illustration? Whenever he counted off the erogenous zones, would he only be able to imagine her on the receiving end of his efforts? And if every single time he had mind-blowing and toe-curling sex, he fantasized about Monica, how could he look her in the face and not be aroused all the time. He wouldn't be able to stand next to her for more than five minutes without having to rush out of the room. She would become synonymous with sex. He knew he couldn't have that.

Chandler eyes opened wide with discovery and he slapped himself on the forehead. "Letters. I'll change it to letters. One will be A, two will be B, and, uh" he began to silently count off with his fingers. "Seven will be G…oh, that almost makes too much sense."

Chandler settled back down and rested his head on his pillow. He was certain that he figured out how to remove Monica from the list of women he has stored up for sexual fantasies in his mind.

"Well, I won't totally kick her out. I mean, she is still hot."

* * *

Monica shot up straight in her bed, panting and wheezing as she tried to catch her breath. She gingerly ran her fingers along her chin and down her neck and could feel intense heat coming from her skin. Her legs were twitching as she shuddered with lust. The hazy images from one of the most intense and torrid sex dreams she has ever had played over and over in her mind and were driving her to an almost insatiable level of sexual desire.

She turned her head to look over at her bedside table. It was three in the morning. Much too early to try to cool off by starting her day and distracting herself with chores. She was also certain, that with how aroused she was, if she simply tried to lay back down, sleep would never return. At least, not without a little help.

She brought her eyes down to the handle of the drawer and played with her lips. Even the sensation of dull tug of her fingers was threatening to push her over the edge. She had plenty of paraphernalia to help her in an attempt to satiate her need to climax. She could simply finish what the dream had started. She knew by the state that she was in, it would not take too long.

Every part of her body ached to succumb to pleasure. She nodded as she contemplated a quick session of self-stimulation. It would be the only thing that could enable her to fall back into a deep and peaceful slumber.

She reached over to slide the drawer open, but stopped herself as her mouth opened wide with shock. Suddenly, the face that belonged to her imaginary nocturnal paramour came into focus. And while she could not deny that he was attractive, perhaps he could even be considered sexy at times, it was still an unwelcome sight to recall. She sat up and rested her back on the headboard as her face twisted up with embarrassment.

"Oh my god, I had a sex dream about Chandler."

Monica had always used mental images of men she was attracted to when she pleasured herself; men she knew or had seen on the street or actors on television. She had even gone so far as to covertly earmark the section of the yellow pages that had the ads for male strippers as part of her sexual toolkit. She enjoyed looking at the models and giving each one of them a name and a back story. She would also become almost uncontrollably aroused by the idea that these images she used for her fantasies came from a book that was alphabetized. It might seem like a strange kink to her friends if any of them ever found out, but for Monica, it was a vital piece of the puzzle to satisfaction when she had to get herself through a dry spell.

The one thing though that she has never, ever done before was fantasize about one of the guys. She wouldn't even allow herself to think about Joey back when she initially met him and experienced a brief moment of infatuation. That was at least, until he ruined it by stripping off all his clothes the first day they met. No matter how attractive either one of them could be, she was always mindful to keep the boys off limits.

She shook her head and quickly counted off the months since she had last slept with someone. She groaned when she realized that her last sexual encounter was with Pete over six months ago. Six long, frustrating months. No wonder she thought about Chandler, she was turning into him. Add to that how turned on she got this afternoon giving him pointers on how to please a woman, and it made so much sense to her that she would have him bouncing around in her head tonight.

"It would almost make no sense if it wasn't him working me over in there."

She laughed and shook her head again as she looked back at her bedside table. There was no way she could do anything about this now. Not with Chandler still on her mind. If she were to break out some vibrator to finish the job he started in her dream, it would no doubt cement him as a regular player with the other guys she keeps up there. He would just be hanging around with male strippers, firemen, that one guy she remembered from culinary school and Jean Claude van Damme. She chortled at the idea of it. Imagining herself turning to him while fantasizing about sex. That was the last thing she wanted to do.

"Sex with Chandler Bing. I don't care how sexy his blue eyes can be sometimes, I will never be that hard up."


	37. Wouldn't It Be Nice

**Wouldn't It Be Nice**

"Come on, just one more drink."

Monica rolled her eyes and shook her head. She tried to over-emphasize her frown in an attempt to send a clear signal to the guy who was hitting on her that she was not interested. Even though he was acting like an over-sexed Neanderthal, she blamed herself a little for the situation she found herself in. She did initially think he was sexy when he first walked over and offered to buy her a drink. He had dark hair that was styled almost perfectly to compliment his strong jawline and chiseled cheekbones. His arms were toned and well defined and she could tell from the tight shirt he wore that he clearly worked out. He was tall, at least six feet, which she preferred. There was something about needing to stand on her toes to properly kiss a man that turned her on. He even had a nice voice and he spoke with a clarity that made him sound like an adult and not some overgrown child in a man's body.

His looks had disarmed her immediately, and she dropped her guard. Instead of being skeptical when he complimented her on how pretty her eyes were, she was flattered. When he had the bartender bring her over a drink, she started to think that she might give him her number, but then he overplayed his hand, opened his mouth, and she soured on him, almost as fast as she had become infatuated.

As far as Monica was concerned, when it came to men, the longer you let them talk, the quicker they showed you what kind of a jerk they were. It never failed. For this guy, it was the moment he tried to turn the conversation into something more sexual. At first, she thought he was simply unaware how off-putting he was when he asked her if she ever had sex in her restaurant. It got worse when she tried to change the subject by inquiring where he worked, only to have him tell her that he did his best work in the bedroom. As they continued talking, he leaned in a little too close and practically pressed his body against hers between the two stools, which turned her off completely. If that was not enough to seal his fate of being branded as yet another creep for Monica to contend with, then he clinched it when his eyes began to linger too long on her breasts. By the time he offered to buy her another drink, she was completely exhausted with him. It seemed, to Monica, that when she was looking for a man, all she ever found were creeps.

"I'm just saying, now that I know how good you look in those jeans, maybe we should see about getting me in your pants."

"No thanks. There's already one ass in here."

He nodded and faked a laugh, but then froze as he tried to process what she had just said. Monica sighed and looked past him to the front of the bar. She closed her eyes slowly, wishing that she could blink him out of existence. When she opened them again, she saw Chandler walking in the side door. He had a harried look upon his face as he rushed in and she noticed that he was still wearing a shirt and tie, which no doubt meant he had come straight from work. He looked lost and uncomfortable as his eyes darted around the room. Normally, she would have let him twist in the wind a bit longer for being late, but she needed to get rid of this guy, and she figured that her neighbor was the perfect person to help her do that. She stood up and started to wave emphatically to get Chandler's attention.

"Oh, honey! I'm over here!"

"Honey?" The man stepped back for a moment, which was already a measure of relief for Monica as there was now at least some space between them. He looked off to where Monica was facing with confused eyes.

"Yes, my, uh, boyfriend just got here."

"Boyfriend! What a waste."

Now the man appeared agitated as he searched the room once more. He sat back down on the seat next to her and she gave off a silent "thank you" as it looked like her ruse worked. He glanced at the drink he had just bought for her and grumbled under his breath.

Chandler walked over and shot Monica a perplexed look as she still had her arm in the air. "You can stop waving now. I think you landed the plane."

Monica rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I'm so glad you're here sweetheart."

"Sweetheart?"

Before Chandler could react further, Monica snaked one of her arms around his waist and pulled him in for a hug. She then leaned up from her seat and placed a kiss on his cheek, catching him on the corner of his mouth.

Chandler stood still with eyes wide; stunned by her behavior. All he could do was mumble "sweetheart" one more time as he tried to ascertain what was happening.

Monica brought her other arm around his torso and interlocked her fingers together against his hip as she hugged him from the side.

"Yes. I was just going to tell this, uh, nice man, about how I was waiting for my boyfriend to show up."

Chandler, finally catching on, nodded and smirked. He looked around the bar for a moment and noted several attractive women nearby. He then glanced over at Monica and narrowed his eyes as a devilish smile spread across his lips.

"Yes. Yes. I'm the boyfriend. We have sex all the time. So much sex. She can't get enough of me." He looked down at Monica and gave her a playful shake. "Honey, tell him what you said about me the other night."

Monica looked up at Chandler and raised an eyebrow as she tried to suppress an embarrassed smile. "Oh, sweetie, I don't think he wants to hear about that."

"Oh, come on now babe. Don't be shy." Chandler looked around at the other people sitting at the bar. "You know how much you like to brag to everyone about how good your boyfriend is in bed."

Monica bit her lip and then gnashed her teeth. "Fine. You, uh, rock my world."

"Daily and nightly?"

She shot him another look, clearly becoming annoyed by his antics. "Daily. And. Nightly."

Chandler spoke up loudly as he pointed at her and looked around one more time. "I rock her world."

"Uh, I have to get back to my friends." The man hopped off the stool, shook his head, and darted through the crowded bar on his way to the other side.

Monica elbowed Chandler in the ribs, forcing the two of them apart as she shot him a mortified look. "What the hell was that all about!"

Chandler gestured around. "Look at all the girls in here. One of them was bound to hear that."

"So?"

"So…I just got the hot girl seal of approval. Now that you vouched for me, they're all bound to be interested."

"Yeah, but they also think that we're going out." Monica playfully jabbed her finger at him. "Unless you're thinking about cheating on me."

"No, this is for the next time we come here, you know, after we break up and one of them wants to console me." Chandler rubbed his hands together and smiled.

"I don't think it works like that stud."

Chandler's face became serious as he looked down at Monica. "You know, if we're going to be dating, you should probably let me see you naked." He looked around quickly and then turned back to her. "Nobody is paying attention right now. Quick, take your top off."

Monica slapped his arm and shook her head with a laugh. "Shut up. Do you want to play some pool?"

"Okay. As long as you are sure you don't want to go back to our place for some Chan-love?"

"I'm sure." Monica rolled her eyes and glared at him sternly. "We might break up tonight if you don't quit it." She gave him a playful shove as she smiled and shook her head. "Just go see if there's a free table."

* * *

Chandler was taking his time trying to line up a shot. Monica stood behind him and tapped her foot impatiently as she watched him move around indecisively. His pre-shot routine was not only infuriating to her, but also wildly inefficient. He would lean over and glide the pool cue through his fingers, but then, right before making contact with the cue ball, he would stand up again and look around the table to see if there was a better shot to be had. Upon his fifth time bending back over to shoot, Monica let loose with a frustrated huff.

"Oh brother. Just take the shot."

Chandler gestured with his hands for her to quiet down. "Don't rush me. This isn't a race."

"If it was a race, you'd have lost." Monica looked around at the balls scattered around the table. "I don't know why you are even trying so hard, you're so far behind, you don't have a chance in hell of beating me."

"I'm lulling you into a false sense of security."

"Consider me lulled." She looked up and saw the man from earlier in the evening walking over to the pool table next to them. "Oh crap. There's that creep again. Quick, do something boyfriend-y."

Chandler stood up and looked at her, his brow wrinkled in confusion. "What?"

"I don't know. Laugh like I just told you a joke."

Chandler pointed at himself with the pool stick. "Why don't you just let me tell you a joke and you laugh?"

"Because you're jokes aren't funny."

Chandler rolled his eyes and sighed as he watched Monica try not to stare at the guy while he approached one of the empty pool tables.

She started to wave her arms at Chandler, beckoning him to approach her. "Quick, give me a hug or something."

Chandler walked over to Monica and looked down at the cue stick that he was still holding in his hands. He nodded, smirked and then used the fat end of the stick to strike her on her behind several times. Monica's jumped a little at the sensation of contact on her rear and her eyes bulged as her mouth opened wide. She wanted to scold Chandler, but his actions left her speechless.

"You're shot babe."

Monica grabbed the stick and shot Chandler a steely glare. She then shook her head and smiled as she decided she was more than capable of matching Chandler in this game of wits he seemed to be intent on playing.

"Thanks honey."

She grabbed the stick and bent over to take a shot. Chandler couldn't help but watch her as she bent over and he allowed a salacious smile to spread across his lips.

She looked over her shoulder at him and arched her eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

"What? I'm allowed to check you out. I'm your boyfriend."

Monica closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I should have just given my number to the creep."

Chandler leaned back and tilted his head as he exaggerated his stare at her ass. He held his fingers up and pretended he was making a frame around her as she leaned over the table.

"I really think this is your good side."

Monica stood up and cleared her throat loudly. "Sweetie?"

"Yes snook-ums?"

Monica walked over to him and started to run his tie through her hands. She let her fingers then dance along his chest as she fluttered her eyelashes at him. "Could you get me a drink. I could really go for a scotch. Oh, and don't let them give me that cheap stuff under the bar. No, I want a really good scotch. They have a bottle of Macallan on the top shelf. I've always wanted to try it, but it's so expensive. Be a dear and ask for that?"

Chandler glanced over at the man who was playing pool next to them and then he narrowed his eyes as he turned back to look at Monica. "How expensive?"

"Oh, they mark it up. A lot. Like, a whole lot. But I'm worth it? Aren't I?"

Chandler shook his head and grumbled under his breath as he turned around and walked over to the bar.

* * *

Chandler took a swig from his beer and placed it down on the ledge next to the pool table. He looked over to take a mental note of where all the balls were located. "I'll be right back. Don't cheat. I'm finally winning a game."

Monica furrowed her brow in disbelief. "Winning? You haven't even sunk a ball yet."

"Neither did you."

"That's because I haven't had a turn yet!"

Chandler looked over the table one more time. "Well, if you're going to get all technical about it."

Monica huffed and waved him off. "Just hurry up."

Chandler chuckled on his way to the bathrooms. He enjoyed winding Monica up. She would flash him this look that was a mix of being annoyed and amused all at once. He loved it when he could leave her speechless with a comment or a joke. Seeing her become flustered because of her gullibility had been one of his favorite pastimes since he moved into their building a few months ago. He was already thinking about some other way to get her riled up when he felt a light touch on his shoulder.

"Hey."

Chandler turned around and snapped back in shock as a short girl with pixie cut blonde hair looked up at him. He was immediately taken with her and found her to be adorable. She had a tight, fit frame and was wearing a low cut top and tight jeans. He wondered to himself, if there was a Guinness record for falling in love with a stranger, and if he had just beaten it. He stammered a bit before he was able to get his tongue under control.

"Oh. Hey. Hi. Hey. Hi. Hey. Hi. You'll have to say something now or I'll just keep doing this."

She giggled and hid her face as she smiled up at him. "I saw you getting a beer before and I wanted to talk to you, but you walked away before I could make it over."

Chandler looked around behind him and then back at her as he pointed to himself. "You wanted to talk to me?"

She nodded slowly at him. "Yeah."

"Wait. Is this about your taxes?"

"What?"

"The last time I came here after work, some girl thought I was an accountant. I think it might be the tie."

"Uh, no. I just thought you were cute."

"Really?"

She nodded again and leaned back against one of the chairs at the bar.

"Really. Oh, well, in that case. Hello. I'm that cute guy you wanted to talk to earlier."

"Well, cute guy, do you want to go get a drink?"

"A drink? In a bar? With an attractive woman? What a crazy idea." Chandler looked past her to the bar, hoping to find a server, but instead, he found himself face-to-face with the guy from earlier in the evening who Monica was avoiding. The two men made eye contact and Chandler became deflated as he shrunk into his shoulders.

"Uh, actually, I can't."

She tilted her head, slightly bemused by his quick turn of mood. "Oh. Can I give you my number?"

Chandler looked back at the man one more time and sighed.

"I can't believe I am doing this. Uh, no. I'm here with my girlfriend."

"Oh."

Chandler watched as the man moved on to the back of the bar and then he turned to face her again. He started to gesticulate nervously as his eyes widened. "On second thought, f you wanted to give me your number, you could."

She looked back at him as her face twisted up. "What about your girlfriend?"

"We could break up. Then if that happens. I can call you. I actually think we might break up right now."

She shot him a look of disgust and shook her head. "Ugh. Men are pigs!" She spun around and stormed off leaving Chandler there clenching his fists in frustration.

"I better get some kind of award for this is all I am saying."

Chandler walked back over to the pool table and saw that Monica was about to sink the last ball. She hummed as she made quick work of it, dropping it down into the corner pocket.

"What took you so long?"

Chandler pointed at the table. "Did you play without me?"

"Yeah, I finally played someone who could give me a challenge." She dropped her pool cue down onto the table and clicked her tongue. "Are you hungry? I'm getting kind of hungry."

Chandler looked past Monica and saw the young blonde girl start to talk to the man that Monica had shot down earlier. She ran her hand along his arm and squeezed at his bicep as she gave out a little squeal. Chandler huffed and turned back to Monica.

"You owe me so big for this."

Monica, oblivious to what he was referencing, let her fingers dance along her chin as she looked up and appeared to be in deep thought. "Actually, I bought the pizzas the other night. You owe me." She grabbed her purse and shot him a playful smile. "I was thinking Chinese?"

"Let me get this straight. I bought you drinks, now I'm going to treat you to dinner, and I'm not going to get lucky?"

Monica bit her lower lip to try and hold back a smile. "Pretty much." She wrapped her arm around his and pulled herself close to lean on him as they stated to walk towards the exit.

"This is the worst relationship I have ever been in."

"Pfft. You would be so lucky. I would be the best thing that ever happened to you."


	38. Toledo

**Toledo**

Chandler paced around his apartment for what felt like a long time before he opened the junk drawer in his kitchen. He did not want to open the drawer. He did not want to think about what was in that drawer. But, after the other night, witnessing Ross and Rachel's devastating break-up, all he could do since then was think about what was in that drawer. He knew what was lying just underneath the glut of take-out menus, loose batteries, pens, rubber bands, and paper clips. It was a valve release. It was a distraction. It was salvation.

He did not want to resort to going into that drawer, and he tried to occupy his mind with other things. At first, he attempted to watch some television. He sat down in his easy-chair and clicked it on with the remote. It was late, and he had very few options. The local evening news would have too many depressing stories to work as a proper distraction. There were a few infomercials on, and as much as he enjoyed mocking them and shouting in unison with the host, "There must be a better way!", he simply was not enthusiastic enough to do that tonight. When he found the movie of the week starting on ABC that he thought he finally stumbled upon something that would save him from his own self-sabotage. A movie always worked. It didn't matter if it was good or bad, as long as he could shut off his brain and forget about breaks-up, divorces, spouses shouting at each other, and love fading, he would be okay.

That was until the opening title "Kramer vs. Kramer" flashed across the screen and he sighed as he turned the television off. He tilted his head and squinted at the television with a look on his face as if he had been personally betrayed by a close friend.

"Sure. A movie about divorce and an ugly custody battle. You are just begging me to smoke now, aren't you?"

He looked over towards the couch and thought about reading a magazine. He got up and walked over to the coffee table to pick through what was there. National Geographic, Rolling Stone, Popular Mechanics, Joey's comic books and his copy of this month's Soap Opera Digest. He knew he had read them all, but he hoped something on the cover would catch his eye. A blurb he missed, an attractive model or actress on the cover on inside that he could ogle again. Unfortunately, nothing he saw compelled him to sit and read. It left him cold. He knew the time for distractions was over as the craving for one sweet drag became overpowering. It was hopeless to fight it anyway. smoking was all he could think about. He needed what was in that drawer. He needed his cigarettes.

He walked into the kitchen, pulled the drawer open, shuffled a few items around and looked down at the pack that he had left in there from the last time he has smoked. His emergency pack. The back-up to the back-up.

"Hello old friend."

It would be easy to smoke one right now. No one else was around. Joey was out on a date. Ross wasn't going to be coming by any time soon. Rachel went to Long Island. Monica was working. There was no one left scold him or make him feel terrible for giving in to temptation. No one to lift his spirits or run interference between him and the sweet nicotine fix he craved. No one to act as a diversion.

"Just one little, tiny cigarette, who would know?"

He nodded to himself with conviction. Who could blame him if he needed a little pick me up after enduring Ross and Rachel's marathon fight that ended in the two of them calling it quits? So what if he required the haze of a nicotine high to stop the flood of memories that their fighting had brought on. Memories of all the time when he would hide in his bedroom to try and avoid hearing the shouting matches his parents would have before their divorce. It wasn't weakness if he made sure he had control of when and how much he smoked. Then it wouldn't be a backslide into his old habit, it would just be a short visit. A quick "how do you do" to an old friend who never once let him down.

Chandler slipped a cigarette out of the pack and ran it underneath his nose as he inhaled deeply. He loved that smell. It smelled like the outdoors. It smelled like sweet smoke, like toasted air. It was warm and inviting and all he could think about was tasting it and letting it burn at his lungs. He placed it in-between his lips and took the lighter from the counter near the stove, but before he could spin the sparkwheel and light up, he heard a door slam behind him. Chandler nervously flung the cigarette and lighter down onto the kitchen counter and tossed the pack on the floor as he spun around, feeling guilty at the prospect of being caught.

"What is it? I'm not smoking."

When he turned his eyes towards the door to his apartment, to see who came in, no one was there. He wondered for a moment if he imagined it. If it was merely his subconscious mind trying to manipulate him so he wouldn't smoke. But then he realized, the slammed door came from across the hall. He leaned up against the door and looked out of his peephole to see if maybe Ross had come by to try and talk to Rachel again, and was slamming the door in frustration when he found out she wasn't there. Yet, as far as he could see, there was no one in the hall. He opened his door and stuck his head out, looking both ways. Empty. He looked down and saw a light go on under the door to apartment twenty. His curiosity got the better of him and he walked across the hall and knocked.

"Come in."

Chandler opened the door and saw Monica standing by the kitchen table. She had already removed her wig and fake breasts and was slipping off her shoes when he walked over towards her. He gave a half-smile and thought to himself that this must be a sign from the universe for him not to smoke. Not only was he no longer alone, not only was Monica the person interrupting him, the one who could not stand his smoking the most, but usually, a pep talk from her always set him straight. Her go getter attitude and her penchant for having an answer for everything would surely lift his spirits. He knew he wouldn't need a cigarette after spending some time with her.

"Hey, I thought you were working tonight."

"I was. I just didn't have it in me tonight. I faked being sick so I could leave early." Monica started to passively search through her purse.

"Oh, is everything all right?"

"What? Yeah, I feel fine. Well, no. I feel terrible."

Chandler nodded and looked down at the floor. "Ross and Rachel?"

"Yeah."

"I think I know what you mean." Chandler walked around the couch and sat down in the big comfy chair. "I've been thinking about it all night. And my night thinking is normally reserved for Claudia Schiffer."

Monica shot him an unamused glare and then paced a bit. "I don't know. Are we being irrational? Getting so hung up on this?"

Chandler looked up and tilted his head. "What do you mean?"

"I feel like I'm the one who went through a break-up. Which I didn't. Why do I feel so sad?"

Chandler nodded and brought his hand to his chin. He thought about how Monica had been having a rough year. Losing her job, running out of money, taking a job she hated at the diner, her break-up with Richard, her subsequent and spectacular failed attempt at being "friends with benefits" with him only a short time ago. All of her wounds were no doubt still fresh, and he wondered if Ross and Rachel had her dwelling on her own past, much like he had begun to dwell on his. It seemed to him, that Ross and Rachel now represented the worst that has ever happened to them, instead of inspiring them to believe in the best that was yet to come.

"Well, you're sad because she's your best friends. He's your brother. You care about them. You want them to be happy."

"I know that, but it feels different. When Ross and Carol got divorced, I was sad for him, but I wasn't sad. I mean, I broke down in tears today watching a long-distance commercial."

Chandler chuckled. "I know what you mean. I think we all feel it in some way."

"Yeah?"

"Well, maybe not all the same, but sure. I mean, this is Ross and Rachel."

Monica finally stopped walking around the apartment and plopped down next to him in the chair. She rested her head on his shoulder and he could hear her sniffle. He snaked his arm around her shoulder to pull her in for a hug.

She sighed and wiped her eye. "I think maybe that's the problem."

Chandler gave her a quick peck on the top of the head and then leaned back. "What do you mean?"

"It's them. They're our big love story."

"If that's true, I'd hate to see what our horror story is."

Monica scoffed. "Chandler." She gave him a slight poke and then settled back into him. "Think about it. It's like a movie. Ross is in love with her for years, then, when he finally thinks he is over her, she falls in love with him. All the back and forth and all the obstacles. The Paolos and the Julies. It's been like two years of anticipation for this thing to happen to two of our best friends, and now, it's all over. Just like that."

Chandler nodded. "Just like that."

"They were supposed to be special and, I don't know, restore my faith in love."

"What?"

Monica shook her head. "Nothing. I just. I don't know if it'll ever happen for..." Monica cut herself off and pressed her head against his chest. "If they aren't our big love story, then who is?"

Chandler looked around the room. "Joey and pizza?"

"I'm being serious."

"So am I. Have you seen how he looks at two pies when they first get delivered? If that isn't love, then I don't know what is."

Monica couldn't help but laugh as she shook her head. She then looked up at him. "Do you think they'll be okay?"

"You mean, like, get back together?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know. Could you get over something like that? Could you forgive someone for sleeping with another woman."

"No. I don't think I could. Could you forgive someone for sleeping with another man?"

"No. Probably not."

Monica shifted back into the seat and separated from him, although their legs were still touching. "That's why you told Ross not to tell her; isn't it?"

"What? I did no such thing."

Monica adopted another scolding tone. "Chandler."

"All right. Yeah, that's why."

"You knew this would happen if she found out."

Chandler looked up. "It wasn't that that hard to figure out."

"Would you have kept it a secret?"

"I don't know. I've been cheated on. It doesn't feel great. I'd like to think that I wouldn't do that to someone I really loved. I'd like to think, even if we had a fight, I wouldn't do something like that."

"Me too."

"Unless, you know, it was Claudia. Or Yasmine."

Monica poked him again with her elbow as she tried to suppress a smile. "Chandler!"

"Or Nicole Eggert. How many exceptions do you think I can get?"

"Zero!"

"So, you're saying I should fall in love with someone hotter than them."

"Chandler!" Monica reached over and grabbed at his side, pinching his flesh between her finger, which caused him to yelp.

"Wow." He rubbed at his side. "Remind me to tell the guy you end up with not to even think about being with another woman. I think you might actually kill him."

"That's right."

Monica leaned against him again and rested her head on his chest. The two of them sat in silence and took a few moments to enjoy the quiet night. Despite their attempts, the air felt heavy in the room, as if it were still weighed down by Ross and Rachel and the pain and anger they filled it up with the other night. Still, she smiled against him as she let her arm reach around his waist. For a short while, it seemed as if they were able to puncture through that dark nebulous cloud hanging over them, and things felt like they were getting back to normal. She wanted more of that.

"Hey, would you mind hanging out tonight? Maybe we can watch a movie."

Chandler's mind went back to Kramer vs. Kramer and he twisted his face into a frown. "Or maybe we could watch an infomercial. There's one about a Wonder Broom on."

Monica shook her head into him. "Oh, those things are always a scam."

"Didn't you buy your mop from an infomercial?"

"So."

"Hey, and the wax too."

"That's beside the point."

"How come?"

"Because...shut up."

Monica and Chandler both exhaled and let loose with a series of chuckles and they sat there, fused together, on the big comfy chair. It felt good to joke and laugh and let the simple act of physical contact soothe them. They could pretend that an asteroid didn't just blow apart their reality. They could deal with all of the repercussions of Ross and Rachel tomorrow. Tonight, they could be Monica and Chandler.

Monica got up and walked to her bedroom. "I'm just going to go change."

"Hey, Mon?"

She turned to look at him once she reached her door. "Yeah."

"You know, what you said before. I don't think Ross and Rachel are going to be your greatest love story."

"No?"

"No. I think, you know, whatever your story is will be your greatest story. Whatever happens to you, that's the story you'll remember. Not all this."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. I think that's probably true for all of us. You and whoever. Me and whoever. Joey and pizza. Phoebe and…I'm guessing a ghost or something."

Monica nodded and exhaled a laugh. "Phoebe and a ghost would definitely be a good love story."

"I just hope they don't register at Bed, Bath and Beyond. Because, they could really mean, you know, Beyond."

Monica shook her head and flattened her lips as she tried not to smile and encourage him to make another bad joke.

"When I get back, I can fix us up a snack if you want. Why don't you find something to watch?"

* * *

Chandler walked slowly back into his apartment. It was a nice distraction getting to hang out with Monica, and they even fell asleep for a little while together on the couch. He hoped he assuaged her fears and told her what he thought she wanted to hear, and he wanted to believe it himself. He wanted to believe that Monica was too good of a person to not find her own great love story. He was almost certain of it, but for him, his words and their sentiment felt hollow. As a deterrent to smoking, it didn't work. He still felt the urge.

Relationships were doomed. His parents. Monica and Richard. Him and Janice. Ross and Rachel. No one, no matter how perfect they were, could make it work. He looked down at the pack of cigarettes he had left on the floor and picked it up. He grabbed the loose one off the counter and picked up the lighter. He flicked the sparkwheel, lit the cigarette, and took a long, slow, drag.


	39. Purple Haze

**Purple Haze**

Chandler walked into apartment twenty, struggling to carry three gallons of paint while holding a burlap shopping bag strapped over his shoulder. He grunted and strained as he made his way towards the kitchen and roughly deposited the cans and the bag down on top of the table. He let out a loud, relieved exhale, as if he were alleviated from a great burden. He started to flex his fingers in an attempt to regain the feeling in them, now only experiencing pins and needles as a result of lugging the heavy canisters up five flights of stairs.

He looked around the apartment and saw the furniture moved away from the walls and covered in drop cloths. The pictures had all been removed from their usual spots and neatly stacked on the coffee table. The floor was covered with fat pieces of tape and a tarp to protect it from any errant drops of paint that might threaten to stain a rug or splatter about which would cause extra clean up after the job of repainting the apartment was done.

He wasn't sure how he was convinced to spend a Saturday painting this apartment. Or how Monica got him to get out of bed before eight and pick up supplies from her list at the hardware store. Yet, here he was, ready to get to work, despite his grumbling and complaining all week as he tried to figure out an excuse to get out of it.

"Monica?"

He waited for an answer from the bedroom or bathroom, figuring she was still getting ready, but the only answer he received was silence. He looked at the silver and grey walls that Monica was determined to repaint. She had been living in this apartment for over a year without her grandmother, yet, when she looked at the décor, she told him that she still felt like a guest in someone else's home. She needed to make a change. She needed this apartment to feel like it was hers.

She had already done some redecorating in an attempt to update the apartment from its 1970s style her Nana had indulged. She bought some items more to the taste of a twenty-three-year-old woman and replaced some of her grandmother's more mature décor that no doubt were relics from decades past. Now, it seemed, all that was left was a quick paint job and the transformation would be complete.

Chandler looked down at the brochure she had made him bring to the hardware store when he picked up the paint and shook his head. Purple. Who would want their walls purple? It was a bold choice; one he was mildly surprised that the more conventional Monica Geller would choose. She had always seemed very practical, and rarely stepped out of her comfort zone, which is probably why they spent more than a few Friday nights watching movies on her television rather than out at the bar.

He walked around the apartment and poked his head into the spare room. Empty. He looked across to the other side and saw the bathroom door open and the light off. He then knocked on her bedroom door, but there was no answer. He took one more look around the apartment on his way back to the kitchen, but reluctantly came to a stark realization. She was not home.

"I hope she doesn't think I'm doing this all by myself!"

He pulled out a chair, and before he sat down, he noticed a yellow piece of paper with her handwriting on it, partially obscured by one of the paint cans. He lifted the can and pulled out the note to read it.

"_Chandler, _

_No, I do not think you are going to do this all by yourself. I stepped out to the frame store when they called to tell me my poster was ready. On the way back I will pick us up some lunch. I set up some coffee on a timer that should probably finish brewing right about now."_

Chandler's head tilted up when he heard the three distinctive beeps from her coffee machine, signaling it was done and fresh coffee was ready.

Chandler shook his head in disbelief. "That woman is a witch!" He then returned his attention to the note.

"_I'm not a witch, I just knew how long it would take for you to get here from the hardware store and how long it would take you to find this note. There's milk in the fridge. Have a cup and if I am not back by then you can get started on the far wall. DO NOT MAKE A MESS! I should be back in an hour._

_Monica"_

Chandler walked over to the counter and groused. "Who does she think she is, telling me what to do." He grabbed a mug and filled it, then reached into the refrigerator to put some milk in. He sat down and fiddled with the note. "She's not the boss of me." He paused as he went to sip his coffee and his eyes narrowed when he caught something written down on the back of the note.

"_I am the boss of you as long as we are painting my apartment. Now finish your coffee."_

He shoved the note away and pushed his seat back as his eyes went wide and he recoiled at her apparent clairvoyance. He then darted his eyes around the room.

"Can she see me?"

* * *

Chandler grabbed Monica's CD player and turned it on, deciding to listen to some music while he worked. As it began to play, he smiled as he bopped his head up and down.

"Phil Collins! I love this guy."

He started to hum along as he popped off the top of the first can and poured some paint in the tray before dipping the roller in it. He loaded it up with paint and began to use uneven strokes as he rolled it up and down the wall.

"Hey, this isn't that hard. I bet I'll be done before she gets here with our lunch."

He applied a full coat to the first wall and stood back, smiling at his work. He looked around to make sure he did not mark up the ceiling or floor and felt confident that Monica would approve. He stepped over to the next part of the wall and dragged the pan with him while he started to rock his hips back-and-forth as he sang out loud.

"Su-su-sudio-oh-oh-oh…Sussudio!"

"Oh my god! What are you doing!"

Chandler's body convulsed in shock when he heard the loud, stern voice that called to him from across the room. He almost dropped the roller, and juggled it from hand to hand until he was able to secure it and place it back in the tray.

"My god woman! Don't do that! You could have given me a heart attack!"

Monica stood in the entranceway to her apartment with her eyes open wide in shock and horror. "Why are you painting my apartment purple!"

Chandler looked down at the paint can and arched his eyebrow. "Because this is the paint that you had me buy."

Monica dragged a large frame wrapped in brown paper into the apartment and leaned it against the door. She then tossed a brown grocery bag onto the table.

"No. I didn't. I wanted cobalt blue! Blue! This is not blue! This is purple!"

Chandler tried to return Monica's agitated tone back to her, but with nothing substantial to say, he offered up a frank confession of ignorance.

"I don't know what cobalt blue is."

Monica stepped towards the wall and gestured at it incredulously with her hand.

"It's the color I spent three weeks picking out. It is not this color!"

"That's not what was marked off in the book you gave me."

"Yes it was!"

Monica stormed back into the kitchen and took the brochure from the table. She walked back towards him as she opened it and let out one hearty triumphant "Ha!" as she shoved the exonerating page in Chandler's face. She started to jab her finger at the small blue square. "Look, See this little star? That's the color I picked."

Chandler shook his head. "No, you picked purple." He took the booklet from her and flipped it a few pages. He mocked her victorious "Ha!" as he pointed at a purple square with an X through it.

Monica looked up at him and flattened her lips. "That's not what I picked."

"Then why do you have an X through it? Everybody knows that X marks the spot."

"What am I? A pirate. An X through something means no. Do not want. Strike it from the page. I put X's through about twenty different colors! Did you think I wanted all of them?"

Chandler turned the book over and looked at it, he started to flip through the pages, finding X's on almost each one. "Oh yeah. I guess you didn't want purple."

Monica covered her eyes with her hands and took a deep breath. "Please tell me you at least got the right color for the bathroom."

Chandler offered her a defensive half-smile. "Was the right color purple?"

Monica let out a frustrated howl. "What am I supposed to do with a purple apartment! It is going to look like I murdered Grimace in here."

"Or Barney."

"Who?"

"You know, the dinosaur. Ross probably knows what I am talking about."

Monica narrowed her eyes and jabbed her hand at him with her fingers pinched close together. "Very thin ice mister." She looked at the wall again with slumped shoulders and dismayed eyes. "This is a disaster. Do you know how hard this will be to cover up and fix?"

Chandler brought his hand to his mouth to cover his frown. He felt terrible. He was about to offer to pay for the new paint, when he suddenly lifted his eyes and positioned himself between Monica and the wall.

"Well, uh, why cover it up?"

"Because it looks weird!"

"No. It looks unique." Chandler let his hands flourish, as if he were presenting the color to her.

"What?"

"Think about it, purple apartment? That's got to be rare. As a matter of fact, you just might be the only person in Manhattan who has one. Think about that. Monica Geller. The only woman in New York with a purple apartment. You'll be a legend."

Monica eyed him suspiciously. "What kind of legend?"

Chandler started to pace as he tried to think quickly. "Oh, uh, like a trendsetter. People will talk about it for years." He walked over to her and put his arm around her shoulders as he waved his hand in front of the wall. "Long after you leave this place, people will always remember the purple apartment and the woman….no…the brave trailblazer who was bold enough to pick this color. People will talk of Monica Geller like they do Helen of Troy, or Joan of Arc, or some other lady of something." He then turned Monica to face him and smiled as he raised his voice, conveying excitement and enthusiasm. "If you paint this place purple, it will cease to be an apartment, it will be an icon. You. You will be an icon."

Monica let a slow smile start to form on her lips as her eyes went wide with wonder. "Icon? I like that! You really think it'll look okay?"

"Oh yeah. You step into this place after being in the drab hallway, and oh, what's that? Pop! Pop!" Chandler started to gesture with his hands in the air, imitating fireworks exploding every time he said "pop". He grabbed Monica once again and stared at her intently. "Now I'm in here, now I'm thinking, who is this amazing person who would be so bold as to paint their apartment purple?"

Monica clenched up her arms as she became giddy. "Me! I'm that amazing person!"

"That's right."

Okay, let's do it!" Monica picked up the other roller excitedly, dipped it in some paint, and began to work on the next blank wall. "Oh, when we are done, please remind me to make fun of you dancing to Phil Collins."

* * *

Chandler took a sip from his beer as the two of them sat down at the kitchen table and admired their work. Monica sighed as she stretched her arm out and placed it around his shoulders.

"I have to hand it to you Bing. It looks good."

"Yeah, it isn't as dark after it dries. I bet once you put stuff back on the walls, it'll look really natural."

Monica jumped up from her seat and walked over to the door. "Oh that reminds me. Can you help me hang this up over there?"

Monica started to rip the brown paper from the frame, revealing a vintage poster. Chandler stood up and walked over to take a look at it.

"What is it?"

"I found this poster in my Nana's room. I really liked it and thought I could get it framed and hang it over the TV. I think it's French, but I don't know what it means."

Chandler tilted his head as he read the words on the poster. "Well, Jouets means toys, and with the rocking horse, maybe it's an old ad or something."

Monica turned to look at Chandler, half-surprised and half-impressed. "You speak French?"

Chandler reached out and pinched his forefinger and thumb close together. "Un peu."

"What's that mean?"

"Not very well."

Monica stood up and chuckled. "Chandler Bing: Man of Many Hidden Talents."

"That's actually on my business card."

"So what do you think? Will you help me hang this?"

"Sure."

"Okay, I think I left my toolbox over on the other side of the livingroom. Can you get it?"

Chandler nodded as he turned to retrieve her tools. He stepped over and picked it up, swinging it across the end table, bumping the toolbox into a large yellow picture frame and knocking it over. He winced as he heard glass shatter and then closed his eyes tightly.

Monica clenched her fists up as she shuddered when she heard the glass break. "What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Chandler."

Chandler looked down at the frame and grimaced. "Well, I mean, it's nothing now." He bent over and picked it up. "I'm sorry, I think broke this frame."

Monica looked at the yellow frame, absent glass and backing and shook her head. "Oh, I really liked that. I found it in a thrift shop on Bleecker."

"Maybe I can bring it somewhere to get it fixed?"

"I guess." Monica looked at the frame and then turned around and looked at her door. "You know what? I have an idea." She snatched the frame from Chandler, walked over to the door, and held it up around the peephole.

"What do you think? I bet no one will have something like this in their apartment."

"What about a picture?"

Monica turned around to face him and fiddled with the frame in her hands. "I think I like the frame more. I mean, if I put a photo in it, It would just go in some corner of the room. If I put it here, I'll get to see it every day. Plus, a frame on a door, pretty iconic huh?"

Chandler smiled and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it'll definitely make an impression."

"You think so?"

Chandler then shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, why not. You know, interior design is another one of my many hidden talents."

Monica laughed. "I've seen your apartment. You must keep it very hidden."


End file.
